Tragic
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: There have been many theories as to why the Tragic Clown is buried next to a young girl named Opal Suarley. The most popular idea is that he killed her and then drowned himself. No one today would question that story. The problem with it all is, we don't know what is true and what is fantasy. This is a story that Sunny has been meaning to tell for a long, long time. And now he can.
1. Sunny: The Beginning

_**I don't own the Sims, EA does. **_

_**For anyone who has ever played the original Sims game or Sims 3, they know that the Tragic Clown is a sad, pathetic little thing. You might also know that he is buried (in Sims 3) next to a little girl named Opal Suarley, both dead of drowning. There have been many theories as to what happened, the most popular one being that the Tragic Clown killed Opal. **_

_**Now, here's a little story that Sunny has been meaning to tell for a long, long time. **_

….

Later, he would notice they liked to mix the facts up. Was this what history was, screwing up what was known and was not, until the story had completely changed? His own story, it had to be said, seemed to have fallen very short of the original passing. If he had to, perhaps he could convince a living Sim to revise these mistakes for him. Or perhaps he would just lay in his grave forever, knowing that if he _was _ever mentioned, it was only in passing, and usually tied with that little girl. He didn't even know who she was. The other ghosts never talked to him, never seemed to notice him. He was invisible in death, as he had been ignored in life. A tragedy, his entire faery tale was a tragedy. A short one it was as well.

This had been his lot in life and who was he to argue, as long as someone listened to his plight? Won't you, please? Do a poor, dead soul a favor?

...

(_1971, Moonlight Falls_)

His name _was _Sunny, they had gotten that much right. He was born Sunny Philippe Andrews, the great mistake. Born to parents who wished for a little girl, he was born on a rainy day in February. His mother had taken one look at him and promptly insisted they go through with naming him Sunny. Boy or girl, rain or shine. And so _Sunny _he became, whether he wanted to or not.

The Andrews family was not a very well-known one, not rich or famous or even very popular, like they had always wanted to be. The family had moved to Moonlight Falls about thirty years ago, starting with Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, who had been newlyweds upon their arrival, hopeful for a little girl to love and cherish. But they had yet to receive their wish, and often blamed the Maker above for refusing them their greatest desire. For now, though, the two attempted to raise their boys, but it was hard, knowing that they were quickly losing their chances, as Mrs. Andrews would one day become too old to give birth, and then they would _never _have a daughter.

It was a hard burden upon their youngest child, knowing he had unintentionally failed his parents. Born a son, he could not help but fear that, should his parents ever actually have a little girl, he would be forgotten and discarded.

His mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, oh they _tried _to love him, as much as they could. But he was their third son, and it was hard to not be just a little disappointed. Sunny did his best to make it up to them, promising to be the best son ever. He got decent marks in every class, he joined the local baseball team. He had friends, lots and lots, because Sunny was friendly and smart and always brought extra pudding in his lunch pack, courtesy of the maid, Hilda.

But it wasn't enough. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews were always out searching, searching. They sent out letters, scrolled forums, constantly begged friends for ideas. Every year, they got older. Every year, they became less likely to have that little girl they so desperately craved.

This, along with the fact that Mr. Andrews was dark where Mrs. Andrews was light, led to much speculation amongst their neighbors about the Andrews family and their strange family ways. Their sons seemed fine enough, if a little rebellious, but what child wouldn't be?

….

His childhood was decent enough, all things considered. He did not really want for any toy. If he was hungry and Mom and Dad weren't around to take care of him, maid Hilda was. He lived comfortably in his family's middle-class house.

Certainly, if he had asked for a puppy, Sunny probably would have gotten one. Or a goldfish, or a cat. His parents could have afforded it, and Sunny could have taken care of it. But he didn't _want _a puppy or a goldfish, or even a cat. It felt a little selfish of him, when he had so much, but what he really wanted was a _family_.

Yes, oh yes, he had a family, a pretty decent one, too. A mom and a dad and two older brothers. But Jakeb, the eldest by seventeen years, was always too busy with college-and later, girls and jobs. Sunny's other brother was ten years older than him, and while they got along, Beau saw his little brother more as something to tease or baby-sit. He was much too focused on his goal to be a superstar athlete. And his parents; they were always busy with work. Hilda, certainly, did not ever want to play with him. All she was ever focused on was driving him to and from daycare and cleaning the house while everyone was gone.

He lived in Moonlight Falls with his family, happy and content. There were many other strange families, such as the Goths or the Wolffes, or even the pale Van Goulds, who had an unusual fascination with blood, but Sunny also had his brother, Beau, to play with, when he got especially lonely.

It was not that his parents ignored him: they did not, not really. But Mr. Andrews was a business man and Mrs. Andrews ran the grocery shop a few blocks down, as well as the book store. Both rarely returned home before seven or eight at night, and often left for work as maid Hilda was coming to take him to day care.

So, _no_, he did not have a bad childhood. He had a somewhat lonely one, but it was happy all the same. There were plenty of mates to be had, plenty of games to be played. Certainly, he had more freedoms than most of his friends, and no one pressured him to go to bed on time or brush his teeth. He could stay up and watch cartoons until he was almost too sleepy to crawl into bed. (Hilda left very promptly at four fifteen each afternoon. She was a _maid, _not a baby-sitter, and Beau Andrews was old enough to take care of his brother.)

Sunny would never once complain of having a bad childhood. Not ever. What he _did _complain of was that it was rather lonely. He never did quite accept that he was destined to lead a very lonely life.

….

"Why not adopt?" suggested Sunny's eldest brother, a man seventeen years older than Sunny. His name was Jakeb. He shared the same light hair and light skin as his mother and youngest brother. When he was in the streets, or in his father's office, people would assume he was an assistant or a friend's son. "Why not just adopt a little baby girl and raise her as your own?"

"Don't you think we considered that?" Mrs. Andrews replied, her eyes flashing angrily. "Don't you think your father and I wondered about adopting for years, every night asking ourselves...could we stoop so low? But, no. We want our _own _daughter, our _own _flesh and blood, not some other woman's castoff child!"

"Meanwhile," said Jakeb coldly, his arms crossed, "you are ignoring the flesh and blood children you _do _have. When do you help Sunny with his homework, or take him to the store? When's the last time you even _hugged _him, Ma?"

Mrs. Andrews stood up, moving towards her son and slapped him. "How dare you...how _dare you_, after all we've done! I am your mother, I raised you and loved you-"

"Only because you thought you'd soon have a little girl to love and care for, Ma. That's the only reason! You don't love me, or Beau, or Sunny! You don't _love _any of us, and I'm not sure you can."

"I care for my children, Jakeb. I do my best-"

"No, Ma, you don't. You _never _do. You _never _have."

….

Jakeb was right. Mrs. Andrews didn't truly ever love Jakeb, or Sunny, or even Beau who ten years older than Sunny and in college. It was a hard burden on a ten year old boy, to know his own mother was struggling to even say she loved him, let alone show affection.

And his father was no better. He had been fifty-nine when Sunny was born, and every day, Mr. Andrews grew weaker and older. He would often promise to show up to Sunny's scouting events, but never did. Or, when the boy won an award from the baseball team, no one was there to cheer him on.

"I'll come get you one day, Sunny," Jakeb would always promise, but he was caught up in his own life, his own engagement to an Olivia Packard. He was young, and had no time or financial standing to collect his youngest brother.

So, Sunny began acting out. He had always been a bit of a prankster and a joker at school, but now his jokes became aggressive, almost borderline cruel. He would trip people, take lunches, tie girls up with their own jump ropes. His friends thought it was all funny until he began to target _them _as well. Exploding bags of dog poo left on doorsteps, flooding the school, TPing a house; he did it all and with a vengeance. Slowly, his friends drifted from him, each angered and frustrated. What had happened to the happy Sunny Andrews?

But it wasn't enough. Even now, Mom and Dad didn't see him. He became angry and fretful. Sunny's grades plummeted and he began showing up to school wearing the wrong uniform. (His parents sent him to the local Catholic school, where all children were expected to be polite and respectful.) He was known to have a 'bad mouth'; the teachers would drag him into the bathroom to wash out his mouth almost daily.

But, still, it was not enough. He had to be drastic, he had to be bold. It wasn't enough to be disrespectful at home or to his teachers. He had to leave, he had to run away so that his parents would realise how much they truly loved him. Because, Sunny felt, deep down his parents _did _love him very much, even if he wasn't a girl.

He began planning. Sunny had a small allowance from chores around the house, but he also began pinching a few extra simoleons here and there from his mom's purse; she would never notice and his new 'bad boy' streak left him feeling satisfied. Soon, he had enough money to buy a cheap sleeping bag and enough food for a few days, if he planned everything properly. Now, he just needed a good place to hide.

He found it easily enough: the graveyard. Hardly anyone went there, it was rumored to be haunted. Sunny would only have to hang around for a day or two, then return home, where his parents would be so worked up, they would promise to love him _forever_, as long as he didn't run away.

….

The plan went without a hitch. Sunny picked a nice Friday afternoon in April, checking the forecast every few days for warnings of rain. When the day of his departure finally came around, Sunny couldn't wait for school to end. He felt so grown-up, knowing he would be all by himself for the entire weekend. Sure, he would be returning Sunday night, back to reality, but he could pretend, for now, that he was all grown up and mature.

He rode on the bus, sitting next to his classmate, Gunther Goth, who always got off at the last stop. The Goth Manor was just a quick bike ride from the graveyard, and as long as Sunny pretended he was going home with Gunther, no one would notice. Besides, most of his old friends didn't even speak to him anymore.

When Gunther got off at the bottom of the hill leading up to his house, Sunny followed after him. The two boys walked in silence, Gunther trudging and Sunny looking around for the little fork in the road that indicated the graveyard.

Suddenly, Gunther spun around, looking rather annoyed and grumpy. "What do you want, _Andrews_?" He sneered down at the smaller, younger boy, his arms crossed. Gunther was thirteen, with long hair and a bad complexion. At school, he was mocked for living 'amongst ghosts', and wasn't used to bringing anyone home. Obviously, he thought to himself, this little kid was coming by to bother him.

"W-want?" Sunny repeated. He hadn't expected to be confronted. "I don't want anything. I was just going to the graveyard-"

"Yeah, sure. _No one _goes to the graveyard, Andrews. Come up with a better lie."

"No, really, I am."

"Then get on, Andrews. The graveyard is that way," said Gunther, pointing west. Sunny nodded, thanking him, and walked off. He could feel Gunther's cold eyes on his back and shivered.

"Hey, Andrews!" Gunther suddenly yelled, and Sunny spun around to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"If you...ever want to come by and talk for a little while...you can. I mean, you're a pretty decent kid, if a little dull. You're not like any of the other kids at school; that is, you don't make fun of me because of who I am. You just make fun of _everyone_."

"Everyone deserves equal attention, regardless of social standing or other differences," said Sunny absent-mindedly. He had half-forgotten where he was or who he was talking to. Gunther frowned momentarily-confused-but nodded and headed back towards his house.

"Weird kid," he mumbled to himself.

Sunny continued to the graveyard, glad his sleeping bag had been small enough to stuff inside his backpack-but not small enough to hold his books, which he had gotten a good thrashing for at school for not bringing. But it was all worth it, because, soon, evening would fall and Sunny wouldn't have to sleep on the cold ground.

….

He reached the graveyard about fifteen minutes later. It was almost five, but since it was also spring, the sun probably wouldn't set for another hour or so. He had time to set up camp and prepare himself. Soon enough, Sunny had a nice little fire going for his supper, and his bag and camping gear were set up nearby. Sunny was now very glad he had signed up for scouting; without the skills he had now, he would have never been able to build a fire.

As the sun began to set, Sunny pulled out his flashlight, intent on exploring his surroundings. It was said that there were ghosts here in the graveyard, not that Sunny believed in such faery tales. How ridiculous! _Ghosts? _Yeah right. There were no ghosts, witches, werewolves, or vampires, regardless of what anyone else said.

How very brave he was. How very foolish he would be.

There weren't that many grave markers, as Moonlight Falls was only a century old, and with all the strange arguments between the Van Goulds and the Wolffe family, many people had decided to leave, rather than live out their lives here. But there were a few markers here and there, mostly old and weathered.

Sunny stopped at the first grave marker, for a man named Jimmy Vu. According to the stone, he had died several decades ago from electrocution. Interested, Sunny looked down at the rest of the writing. Someone had, probably shortly after his burial, written in:

_James, who never knew how to fix the stove. _

Under that, in newer writing was scribbled markings, probably teenagers disgracing the graves with their rude comments. Some he could barely make out, but others were new, fresh, and Sunny wondered if he would run into any of the local teens tonight.

_Jimmy Vu _

_Just wanted to poo_

_But didn't know how to _

_So he got shocked, boo-hoo-hoo_

_And now he's a little wee ghostie-whoo_

Sunny rolled his eyes. Some Sims could be so immature. Sure, Sunny liked to prank people, but he would _never _write on another Sim's grave. That was rude and disrespectful, even if there weren't any ghosts.

He glanced at another stone, reading _Alexa Burt, in our hearts and in our minds, but in the arms of the Mummy's curse. _

Under that, someone had written _It's a shame that worthless skank never married me. I would have made her a REAL woman, instead of a Mummy. _

He entertained himself for another hour, looking at the various graves and wondering what kind of Sims they had been, in life. Had they been kind and happy, or mean and grouchy? Did they still have family in town, or were they the last, alone and cold in their stone graves? Sunny felt somewhat sad, knowing this would one day be him. He wondered if his own family would come visit and cry over him.

Soon enough, though, it fell dark and Sunny decided to go to bed. Tomorrow, he would go exploring the catacombs. Sunny had heard that there were wild bears running around inside, but he wasn't interested in that. He was merely curious to find out more history of his home town.

Lying down inside his sleeping bag, Sunny fell into a peaceful sleep. He was completely unaware of the sudden, chilly winds that were blowing around the graveyard. The trees were shaking with fear and excitement, as a deep cold voice echoed through the graveyard, calling upon those around him from their deep slumber.

First one, then two and three, figures jumped up, seemingly from the ground. The first one, a young man, stretched, looking down at his orange arms. He smiled to himself and then waved at another figure, a black-shaded woman. She rolled her eyes, making a noise of disgust and floated away from him.

_Alexa! _he said in the ghostly sort of moan that only they could understand. _Alexa, wait for me. _

_Go away, Marco. _said Alexa, rolling her eyes. _I don't want to talk to you. _

Just then, the third figure, who was a bright yellow and sparked every few seconds, waved at his companions.

_Over here, you two. _he called, pointing at the sleeping figure of Sunny Andrews. _I've found a living child. _

_Living?_

_Yes, living. I think. His eyes are closed, like he's sleeping, but I don't think it's the Great Sleep. _

The three huddled over Sunny, looking at him curiously. They had seen livings before, once or twice, but none of them had ever seemed to see Alexa, Marco, or Jimmy. It was like they were invisible.

_Should we wake him? _Jimmy asked.

He needn't have, though, as Sunny had woken up on his own. He opened his eyes, stretched, and looked around at the three not-quite people around him. For a second, he just sat there, and then he screamed loudly, then slumped sideways, unconscious.

The ghosts were up.

….

_**I will be making this into a multi-chapter story, but I'm not sure how long or when I'll update next. Also, the Andrews family IS a real family in the Sims 3 game, which means I don't own them. The story will also jump back and forth between Sunny's side of the story and Opal Suarley's. **_

_**Next Chapter: Opal **_


	2. Opal: A New Life for Alice

_**Any recognisable Sims aren't mine, but the rest are characters I've made up for the story. Mentions of adult themes and a few cuss words. **_

_**Chapter 2 of Tragic: Opal **_

….

(_November 1996, Bridgeport, Flat 3B_)

Her name was Alice. Alice Strenner, just twenty-one years old, alone and sleepy. Her dingy apartment flat in Bridgeport was dark, as the light bulb had long since gone out and Alice had no funds to replace it. At night, when she would lay on her back, Alice could swear she heard the sounds of little rats, scrabbling around for the remains of food. But there was rarely enough for the rats to pinch, let alone Alice.

She was a literal starving artist. Alice had moved to Bridgeport three years ago to get away from her family. She wanted to be a big time pianist, to perform in front of thousands. In fact, her nickname as a child had been Mozart, as she had taken to the piano at the age of three, her little hands hitting each key individually, gracefully. From then on, Alice Strenner knew she wanted to not just be called Mozart; she wanted to _be _Mozart. World-renown. And the best place to start, it was said, was Bridgeport, the city of a thousand lights.

But her mother, Maggie, didn't understand the concept of dreaming big dreams. She came from the small town of Sunset Valley, born and raised in the same house until her marriage to Alfred Strenner. She had never worked, never dared to do anything but stay at home and raise her children. That was her goal, after all, to raise at least five children. Well, Maggie Strenner had gotten her five children, plus one extra.

Alice recalled her siblings. There was her older brother, a cheery young man of twenty-four. His named was also Alfred, named after their father. Alice was the second child, then eighteen year old Amelia. After her was Adelaide, who was fifteen, and the youngest were the twins Arthur and Amora, who were twelve, last time she had visited.

In such a home, Alice felt crowded and out of touch. She had loved her family-still did, actually-but it was hard to get noticed when there were six other children to attend to. At least she had been the eldest girl and hadn't had to wear anyone else's hand-me-downs.

But Alice had moved to Bridgeport to succeed, and here she was, three years later, with a cheap piano and an even cheaper flat. No money, no fame, nothing. She couldn't go back now, not with her mother's disapproving glances, and Amelia's jibes. She had promised to send money when she could, but there was no money to even eat. Soon, no doubt, the landlord would find out she was broke and would kick her to the streets. She had seen it before, sobbing men or women huddled with only their meager belongings, begging for another chance. At the time, she had felt pity for them, but now she was about to _become _one of them.

Alice sighed, getting up from her bed. She had been trying to sleep for hours, to no avail. Her mattress was several years old, as she had bought it off of a neighbor downstairs, because her flat hadn't come with a mattress, just an empty bedframe. The mattress was very thin, and she had to constantly duct tape it shut, because the springs were popping out.

In fact, everything in the flat looked old and worn. Even Alice herself seemed rather rubbed upon, as if she was much older than twenty-one. Her once pretty dark hair was matted and dirty, as she could only get a shower when she managed to get into the local gym facilities. Her usually bright green eyes had darkened and hardened, three years on edge making her wary. She was very skinny, much skinnier than she had been, several of her ribs easily visible.

The refrigerator, which was tucked into the corner of her one room flat, was empty and the light bulb here had also burnt out. As a child, Alice had wandered by many a lit lamp without a thought of where it was coming from or what it cost. As an adult, however, Alice realised that everything had a price and often, it was a very expensive one. She found herself struggling to pay the bills, and had sold her last few books to pay this month's bill. Not that it would do her any good now, with the toilet clogged, the fridge empty, and the light bulbs dead.

She couldn't write home, though. Alice didn't want to face the shame of being the failure of her family. She had promised her mother she could do this, and if she failed, Alice would return home to go to school to become something 'practical', as her mother called anything _besides _being a musician.

She couldn't go home, not like this.

….

Hannah, an acquaintance of her's, had offered to take her out drinking and partying. Hannah said they could sneak into the nicest place in town, meet a few nice guys, get really drunk, and have a nice night. Apparently, this was something Hannah did all the time, but Alice didn't see the fun in it.

"I can't!" Alice protested, waving her hands down at her clothes. "I've got nothing to wear! Look at these jeans; I've worn them three times this week already. They're practically stiff with dirt."

"Oh, don't worry, Ali-" Hannah was always calling Alice 'Ali', even though she thought the name sounded childish. "-you can always wear something of _mine_. Daddy's sent me some new dresses." Hannah was the only child of a bitter and rough divorce almost ten years before. She was used to receiving nice, fancy things from both parents, but _especially _her high-end director of a father.

"Hannah-"

"Don't say anything, darling, nothing at all! It's not a problem, you know that. You and I, we're going to have a nice night out and _you _are not going to complain, not once."

"Fine," Alice sighed. "Just this once, though. I need to focus on my career."

"Career?" Hannah repeated, giving her friend a smirk. "_What career_?"

"You're horrible!" Alice groaned, following Hannah into the elevator, up to her flat, which was a lot nicer than Alice's. It was completely sea green, with lots of pretty lighting, and a maid that came by every Thursday. Hannah would often offer to loan Alice some money-or even threaten to just drop off a bag of simoleons in her mailbox-but Alice didn't want anyone to take care of her. She could do this herself.

Later that night, when she went to go meet Hannah, Alice felt rather fancy, much more girly than her usual jeans and a t-shirt from some old rock band. She was wearing a sparkly pink thing that went just above her knees, no sleeves, very low cut. Her hair was up in an elaborate braid, and her heels were at least three inches. She wore light blush and her deepest pink lip stick. Alice felt strangely... pretty.

But, next to Hannah, she saw herself for who she was: a poor girl dressing up as Barbie.

Hannah wore a very, _very _short dress, which just barely covered her panties. Her bra straps were very obviously sticking out and her dark blonde hair was pinned up with elaborate clips, most glitter-covered butterflies. She was wearing high heels, almost stilettos. Her make up was very intense, and she even had her best jewellery on, practically _shining _in all her gold and pearls.

Hannah was rich. Alice was only playing at being rich. But, for tonight, she was going to drink and get buzzed, and have fun. Who was going to tell her no?

She and Hannah had a nice time walking down to the bar, some half-decent place called Waylon's Haunt. Hannah insisted that there was no telling when the bar would go out of style-or go out of business all together-and she wanted to be seen at the right bars at the right. So, Waylon's it was. Hannah flashed a pass at the bouncer cheerfully, walking straight past him. She didn't even slow down or turn around to wait for Alice. Alice tried to follow after her, but the bouncer put his hand out to stop her.

"Hey, I'm _with _her!" Alice exclaimed, trying to push past him. He merely chuckled and blocked the door with his body. Alice growled, but the bouncer didn't react.

"Sorry, you can't come in," said the bouncer, sneering down at Alice. He was muscled, tall, and intimidating. His dark uniform was a stark contrast to the pulsating lights around him.

"What?"

"_You _aren't on the list, little lady. Not on the list, no entry, no exemptions."

"But my friend-"

"You are not on the list, ma'am. Do you want me to escort you outside, or are you going to just walk yourself downstairs?"

Inside the club, Alice could see Hannah already headed towards the bar. She hadn't noticed that her friend was stuck outside with no way in. In fact, Hannah probably wouldn't even notice that Alice wasn't with her until the morning hangover headache had died away tomorrow.

Alice sighed, knowing it wasn't worth it to get into an argument. She couldn't even bribe the damn bouncer, she was so poor.

Walking back down the stairs, Alice was beginning to regret her foolish choice of coming out to a party with Hannah instead of doing something important, like getting a _real _job. She didn't really want to go to her room, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. But it was rather cold outside, and her dress was short. She had to go back home or she would freeze to death.

She walked down into the subway and sat down on a bench, waiting for it to leave, exhausted. It was only eight at night, but she felt so sleepy. And the subway train so warm...and she just couldn't help it... because she hadn't slept properly in days now...

"Hey, miss? Miss, you might want to wake up soon, I think it's your stop coming up." said a voice, as a cold hand shook her shoulder. She twitched, trying to pull away, but the hand got more stressed.

"Miss, seriously. You're gonna want to get up."

"Wha-ah?" she mumbled, opening her eyes blearily. There was a young man, probably about twenty-five or so, standing over her. He had deep blue eyes and dark brown hair. He was dark-skinned, darker than her. For the first time, Alice felt-rather foolishly it must be said-in love.

"The train's stopping, ma'am. This is it's last stop, and you're going to have to get off," said the man, smiling down at her. Alice was used to smiles. Smiles from upper class woman who looked down on her, smiles from teachers ready to punish her, smiles from the owners of the bars who were turning her down. But this smile..._this _smile was kind and caring.

"You need any help getting to your flat, miss?" asked the man, offering her a hand.

"Uh...sure?" she mumbled, getting to her feet. She followed him out of the train, up the stairs, shivering. Alice had forgotten how cold it was outside, and she hugged herself, her breath coming out in puffs.

"Want my jacket?" asked the man, already shrugging it off.

"Um..."

"Oh!" he said, frowning. "Right, we've just met and I'm already offering you my coat. My bad. Sometimes, I'm a bit...inappropriate, sorry. Um, I'm Harvey. Harvey Suarley. I'm a paramedic at the Sacred Spleen Memorial Hospital, the Bridgeport branch."

"Alice Strenner, starving pianist. Currently unemployed," she replied, smiling shyly. His eyes widened and he shook his head.

"But that's not right! Something so pretty as you, you ought to be a model!"

"Don't lie, Mr. Suarley. There's no need."

"Please, call me Harvey." he said, grinning down at her. He had taken her hand in his and was leading her towards her building.

"And you may call me Alice."

"Alright. Listen, Alice, do you maybe want to go out to eat tomorrow night? I don't think you're joking about that starving thing."

"Sure," she said uncertainly.

"I don't mean as a date, Alice! Just as...two people trying to know each other."

Her heart dropped. He wasn't interested? "What would you do if I said _I _do want our little dinner to be a date?" she said suddenly, feeling unnaturally flirty. His eyes widened as she leaned closer, smiling seductively. They had managed to walk themselves into the elevator without noticing and it dinged, opening, and making both jump.

"Whoops," said Alice, giggling. "Looks like you'll have to come upstairs. I don't think you're going to want to be on the streets so late at night now."

"Alright, Alice," he replied, following her inside. She lit several candles, blinking against the weak flames, as Harvey took in her dingy apartment.

"Pitiful, Alice. _Pitiful_. You haven't even got a proper stove?"

"Nothing to eat, Harvey."

"Ah. Of course. Spent all your money on that piano?" He nodded towards her little portable piano, which sat sadly in the spot where her television used to be, until the people upstairs had 'borrowed' it and never given it back.

"Of course, Harvey." She loved saying his name out loud and in her head. It wasn't a beautiful name, but she liked it all the same.

"But you've got a bed," he remarked, pointing at the thin mattress settled crookedly on it's iron frame.

"And that's all _we _need, isn't it?" she chuckled, then grabbed his collar, pressing her lips towards his. She felt strangely drunk, without having had a single drop in months. Their bodies were pressed together, becoming one as she kissed him, hard. Alice seemed not to need air, the kiss went on and on. Suddenly, Harvey pulled her away, gasping.

"Don't you..."

"Yes, I do," he panted. "Just...give me a second..."

"Alright,"

He pulled at his hair for a second, then grinned. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"You know nothing about me."

"I know you're a great kisser."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Want to do it again?"

"And so much more, Harvey. So much more, trust me." They fell onto the bed, a mixture of cloth and flesh, giggling and pulling at clothes, buttons popping. Around Alice, the air was growing steadily warmer as she wrapped herself around Harvey, feeling much more seductive than usual.

….

(_Bridgeport, Flat 3B_)

The next morning, she woke up to clothes strewn around the bed. A fancy pink dress and nice stockings. _Hannah's clothes_.

She groaned, remembering last night. Remembering Harvey. Whatever sexual buzz he had stirred up inside her was long gone and now she just felt cheap. And she _was _cheap. Harvey was gone, every trace of him missing. A fuck and run. How typical of a male. Why had she let him touch her? Alice had known nothing-_nothing_-about him! What if he was thief or a rapist?

Suddenly, there was the sound of horribly off-key singing from outside, and the front door opened, revealing Harvey in his crumpled clothes from last night. He grinned down at her, and held up the bag in his hand, which was stuffed full of what looked like cereal, jam, and toast.

"No milk, but I've never really cared for the stuff much, anyway," he said cheerily, settling the bag down on Alice's counter.

"You're back," she said, startled.

"That I am."

"You're back." she repeated.

"Yes."

"With food,"

"Delicious breakfast food."

"You didn't just run off."

"I'm offended, Alice! I'm a gentleman, after all, not a tosser. I would never treat a girl so poorly as to screw her and then leave her! Especially not in a place as sad as this."

"I...I'm surprised...it's just that, well, my friend Hannah said that that's all men do here, a quick fuck and run."

"Well, _I _am not from Bridgeport."

"Oh?"

"No, I'm from Moonlight Falls, just making my way across the country, slowly transferring my files from hospital to hospital. When I get the proper funds, I was planning on buying a little lot in Sunset Valley."

"I'm from Sunset Valley,"

"Aha. Thought you didn't look like a Bridgeport girl. Too...innocent. _Naïve._"

"I've been here for three years."

"In a dingy little flat with no lights?"

"I like the sunlight."

Uh huh. Well, while you've been living in the dark ages, _I've _been saving up my money for a proper home."

"So have I!"

"Right."

….

(_December, 1997, Matt Schuckler's car, Bridgeport city limits_)

They had been dating for a year now, Harvey and Alice. She had moved into his flat almost immediately, at his insistence. Slowly, but surely, Alice had been building a name for herself as a damn good pianist, though she mostly only performed at run down bars like Waylon's Haunt.

Hannah had apologised profusely for leaving her, but claimed it must have been a mark of fate, seeing as how she had run into Harvey instead. Hannah had even insisted Alice keep the dress and shoes, for _dates_.

And now, for the ultimate challenge, Alice was planning on bringing Harvey home to meet her family. In fact, that was were they were headed now, sitting in a Big Lemon that Harvey had borrowed off a mate of his from work. The two of them were still saving up for their nice lot in Sunset Valley, getting closer every day it seemed. Because Alice was in love with Harvey, and she wanted to live with him forever, even if it meant going back to her sleepy old childhood town.

"Your mum and dad," Harvey began, smiling at her and taking her hand. He squeezed it for a brief moment before letting go to grip the wheel again. "What're they like? You never really talk about them."

"Nice enough, I suppose. My mum doesn't work, but she's raised all of us, which is a job enough. My dad is an Architect. He's designed a few houses over in Sunset, but most of his work is in Starlight Shores. He's _big _over there. Let's see..what else? They've been married for thirty-something years, never really gotten into any marriage-shaking arguments, far as I know. They have six tyrannical children-"

"Including you,"

"Yes, including me. Alfie Jr. is twenty-six, nearly, Amelia is nineteen, Adelaide is sixteen, and the twins are fourteen. That's Arthur and Amora, the only ones left in school."

"Why's that?"

"Because Addy ran off with her boyfriend after she got pregnant, and Amelia just wants to be a nanny. _I _don't need to go to any university to be a regular old Mozart, and Alfie is busy preparing himself to be the greatest educator the world has ever seen. He's just a playground monitor for now, but just you wait-he'll do great things one day! Might even teach our children." She blushed as he turned to look at her, mouth agape.

"Children?"

"Sorry, too soon?"

"No, no. But, blimey, Alice! I wasn't aware you were interested in _kids_."

"I'm sorry,"

"No, this is fantastic! Absolutely fantastic." He had parked the car, and was now grinning at her. "I've been waiting for this for almost three months."

"Waiting for what?"

"Alice Jeanne Strenner," he had pulled out a little box. "Will you marry me? I know it's only been a year, but I'm madly in love with you, and I can tell you're in love with me. So, will you?"

"Oh, yes, yes! Yes! Oh, Harvey, yes! This is fantastic, Harvey! Oh!" she was shrieking now, and it was all terribly unromantic, trapped in the tiny car, but she didn't think she'd ever been happier in her life. "Oh, oh! I can't believe this! It's all so exciting! What am I going to tell my mum, when I haven't even telephoned her in months, and now I'm suddenly showing up with fiance?"

"Um...'hey, mum, this is my new fiance, Harvey. We've been dating for a year now and we're in love. Happy holidays?'"

"Right, I don't think _that's _going to go over well, especially with our...other news."

"What other news?"

"Um...we're _also _going to be parents? In, like, seven months?"

"You're joking."

"No."

"Oh dear Maker above! This is the best day of my life!"

"Don't have a fit just yet, Harvey. Wait until you meet my mum. She might just kill us both before anything else happens."

"I don't care-I'm in love, I'm getting married, and my fiancee is pregnant. Nothing could ruin this moment right now."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Not even the fact that there's a cop outside your window right now?"

There was, a middle-aged woman, tapping on the glass and frowning at them. She shook her head as Harvey rolled down the window, giving her a sheepish smile.

"Hello, officer. I'm going to be a daddy."

….

_**In case you're curious, I like to treat the Sims like sentient beings, which is why they can do a lot of things in my stories that a Sim can't actually do in the game. I've sort of mixed a few real-life things into the game, just to make it more realistic. Also, this chapter takes place about thirty five or forty years after Sunny's story, but they're intertwined together.**_

_**Feel free to review! **_


	3. Sunny: Ghosts in the Graveyard

"_**Who you gonna call?"**_

"_**Ghost busters!"**_

"_**I ain't afraid of no ghosts!"-(The Tenth Doctor & Rose, "Army of Ghosts" Season 2) **_

_**Sorry, that was uncalled for. I just couldn't resist...**_

_**Hey, guys, this is Chapter 2 for Sunny! **_

….

(_1971, Pleasant Rest Graveyard, Sunset Valley_)

Sunny slowly woke up, not opening his eyes, expecting to find himself in his warm bed at home, Beau shaking him awake. He waited to hear the usual Saturday morning cartoons and the sound of Mom and Dad in the kitchen, preparing for work. Dad worked everyday, rain or shine. In fact, he had very narrowly missed Beau's last birthday because of a conflict with one of his meetings.

Sunny did not, unfortunately, wake up to Saturday cartoons or his parents talking. Instead, he cracked his eyes open, looking around at the three specters around him. It was still dark night around him, and the only thing he could see was the glowing figures surrounding him. There was a yellow figure and a orange figure, both seemingly male, as well as a black specter, which Sunny thought might be a girl. Most importantly, they were all dead.

"Wha-what's going on? Who're you Sims? I've never seen any of you Sims before."

_I'm Marco, _said the orange one. But it wasn't like normal talking, like when Sunny spoke to his friends. This was a ghostly sound, like wind in his ears. Somehow, though, Sunny could pick out the human words amongst the noise.

"Marco?"

_Yes, Marco Dolor. That's Alexa Burt and Jimmy Vu, _said Marco, pointing at the black ghost and the yellow ghost.

_Hi_, said Alexa, waving shyly. She, too, sounding like moaning, rushing wind. _Who are you, living child? _

"I'm Sunny. Sunny Andrews."

_Andrews? _asked Jimmy, frowning. It was a very weird sight to see, as he didn't really have any skin to frown with. Instead, lightning seemed to pop around where his forehead more or less was. _Andrews? I've never heard that name before. Are you new to Moonlight Falls? _

"We've been here for almost thirty years, my family."

_New comer, then, _said Alexa, settling on the grass next to Sunny. She almost faded into the night sky, until she moved, when you could see the shadows deeper than the dark sky. Sunny could just make out her old-styled hat, and her sad smile. _We hardly ever get to talk to any of the livings. Most of them don't see us, and the ones who do quickly lose that ability. _

"So you're ghosts, then?"

_Yes, fully and properly ghosts. We can't eat, can't change our clothes, can't do anything interesting at all, besides wander around the graveyard and spook people. _said Marcos, shrugging and giving Sunny a half-smile, like they were both in on some joke. Marcos, who was orange, had very long hair which he had to continuously move away from his eyes to see Sunny. Sunny was about to recommend a haircut, before remembering that Marcos was dead, and therefore, couldn't cut his hair. He was quite a chubby man, but didn't seem to mind at all.

"But, why can I see you?" he asked, looking around at them. "You said very few people can. Why me?"

_Maybe you're dead yourself, without even realising it, _said Jimmy Vu, grinning as he adjusted his baseball cap. Meanwhile, Alexa had taken her hat off, revealing her wide eyes and dark hair, which hung just past her shoulders.

"I can't be dead. I can't be." Sunny argued, feeling very sick. What if he _was _dead? What would he do then? He didn't want to be dead, just a little less lonely.

_That's not a very nice thing to say, Jimmy, _Alexa reprimanded, scowling. _I love a good joke every now and then, but that was just mean. I'm sure the boy just has a bit of Seer's blood in him, is all. _

"Seer's blood? What's that?"

_It's a rare thing, having Seer's blood. It give you the ability to see ghosts, or predict the future, or even heal people, depending on how much of it you've got, or how strong it is. _Explained Marcos, looking very excited. _I love having the living around, it's so fun to explain things to them. _

"But...that doesn't make sense. I think I would know if I had Seer's blood. Someone would have mentioned it in my family, wouldn't they? I think this is all a mistake." He paused, looking sideways at Alexa, who was still relaxed next to him. "I thought you said you couldn't change your clothes. Why's Alexa's hat off, if you can't change your clothing or do anything like a normal Sim?"

_Alright, so we might have lied a little, _said Alexa, shrugging.

_Or a lot, _Marcos added. _We ghosts can do pretty much anything you living can, but it's going to cost us a lot more energy. I've been trying to convince Alexa here to have a little fun in my grave some time, but she won't budge. _

_I am over one hundred and fifty years old, sir. I was sixty-nine when I died. I am much too old to be having 'a little fun', as you so eloquently put it. _Alexa replied, giving him an annoyed roll of the eyes. _You're being very immature, for an adult. _

_I'm only 26, if you check my grave stone. _said Marcos cheekily, and Sunny felt very awkward suddenly, watching the two bicker. He wondered if he ought to just get up and hide out somewhere else for the weekend, as it looked like Alexa and Marcos were about to come to blows, and he wasn't sure what a ghost fight looked like, or how much damage it might cause.

_Not very much fun, is it, watching those two fight? _said Jimmy, waving his hand towards where the other two were now standing, shrieking at each other and waving their hands wildly. _But don't worry, these two go at it all the time. When Marcos was alive, he was rather shy and nerdy, but now that he's dead, he feels he has all of eternity to woo all the ladies, even the ones that don't want to be wooed, or the ones that oughtn't be. Kind of funny, when you consider **I **was the flirty one when I was alive. _

"How did you die? I mean, you're all yellow, but Marcos is orange and Alexa is black. Why is that? Does that mean you died different ways, or what?"

_Yes, we all died differently. I was electrocuted, when I was sixteen. My dad...he had told me to fix the radio because it had broken again, and we wanted to listen to Kenneth speak-you know, James Kenneth? He was the President when I was alive-but when I went to fix it, I got shocked. Really bad, too, it fried my whole body, and now here I am. _He pointed at Alexa. _She got killed by a Mummy's Curse. Traveling through Egypt with some friends who had all recently retired, just like her. For two years, she suffered through the strangest illness, slowly losing her vision, before dying. And Marcos, well, he got a little too close to his fireplace one night, if you know what I mean. _

"But that's awful. I feel so bad for all of you! I wish everyone could see you, so they would understand to be more respectful to Sims who have died. I was looking at the markers earlier, and people have just scribbled all over them, without any regard to the person buried there. Why are people so rude? Oh, I hope one day people can see you, so you can tell them to be nicer."

_We don't want to be seen, Sunny. Not by everyone! They'd start testing on us, experiments to find out about death and the after life. And people who are alive would get too excited about their own departed ones, hoping to see them, when some just aren't in a right state to be seen, or have moved on. _

"Moved on?"

_Past this way of life, on to heaven or wherever the lucky ones go. Sims like us, though, we're stuck here, for whatever reason. _

"Oh."

_Yeah, _said Alexa sadly, floating back over. _We're stuck here forever, or until we do something big, something life-changing, though what we've got to do, I'm not sure. Poor Enza over there, _she pointed to one of the smaller graves. _She's been here the longest of any of us, almost three hundred years, and no idea how to leave. Rarely comes out anymore, Enza, too sad. _

"Maybe I can help."

_Maybe, _said Alexa, not looking very hopeful.

….

_(At the Goth Manor) _

Inside the attic slept a young teenage boy, about thirteen. His entire room had been painted black, even the bed sheets. It was rather cold, spring or not, even with all the windows shut and locked, but Gunther Goth had never minded the cold. He lay curled up under several blankets and quilts, his black-what else would they be-pyjamas helping to warm him. Gunther enjoyed his room, with the dark bookshelves full of science fiction and horror novels. He had his own computer, a desktop his sister had bought for him a few years ago. He especially liked his bed, which was shaped like a skull, but was a shiny blackened colour, which he suspected was ebony.

Gunther woke up from a particularly nasty, but rather enjoyable, nightmare. He had been dreaming that several of the school bullies were being chased around by giant trees, which gobbles the entire town up, save for Gunther, who had become King of Moonlight Falls. But now, at almost two in the morning, he heard a quiet tapping on his windowpane, like little fingers knocking on the glass.

Gunther clambered out of bed, opening the window. He looked out, expecting to catch a bird or a child, to see...nothing. No one was there, but the sound continued. He frowned, wondering if some kids from school were hiding in the bushes, throwing pebbles at his windows to annoy him. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Gunther!" something called suddenly, a harsh whisper from above him. "Gunther, can I please come in? I don't like heights very much, and I'm about to fall!"

It was that stupid Andrews kid from the bus! Gunther stuck his head out the window, looking-of all the places to be-up towards the roof. There he was, the little boy sitting on the roof, holding a handful of pebbles, and smiling sheepishly.

"What do you want, Sam?"

"I'm Sunny." the boy replied, getting to his feet and nearly toppling over. Gunther sighed, and reached up, pulling him down and inside through the window. The boy had gone pale and was sweating profusely as he thanked Gunther.

"Why are you here, Steve?"

"Sunny. I'm here because I have something exciting to tell you. Something _really _important and big and life-changing! Really life-changing, Gunther. Trust me, you'll love it. Alexa says you might not be able to see anything, but you strike me as the kind of person who can."

"See what, exactly?"

"The ghosts, of course! The ones that are in the graveyard. I think there's about a half dozen total, maybe a little more, but right now I've met three so far, and they're waiting for you. I don't think they can leave the graveyard, so I didn't bring them along, but I wanted you to see." He spoke very fast, his cheeks flushing as he nervously explained what was going on. Gunther couldn't help but roll his eyes. Did this kid really think he was so gullible?

"Is this some sort of joke? Do you think it's _funny _to mock people? Get out of my room, Samson."

"I'm Sunny, actually. And this is no joke, Gunther, I'm being very, _very _serious. There ghosts in the town graveyard, waiting."

"Are you serious...can you really see them?" Gunther was beginning to get uncharacteristically excited. If he had found someone else like him...someone else who could see the specters...

"See them, talk to them, yeah. They've been telling me all about themselves, though Alexa and Marcos are a bit argumentative, so you might want to watch out around them."

"Alexa and Marcos?"

"Two of the ghosts I met tonight. The other one is a boy named Jimmy Vu, he's all yellow and stuff, but he's pretty nice." Gunther knew Jimmy Vu. He had met the deceased teenager several months ago, on one of his treks to the graveyard. He knew now that the Andrews boy wasn't lying, but Gunther was still slightly confused.

"Why are you telling me this? Why not the police?"

"Oh, they told me not to tell anyone who's an adult, because they could get experimented on, and they don't want that. But I told them I knew a boy named Gunther who could help them out, who could see ghosts. Jimmy says he's met you."

"Let's go, then, Spenser." said Gunther, grabbing his nightgown and tying it over his pyjamas.

"_Sunny_," the smaller boy whined, following Gunther out the window, climbing down the ivy growing along the wall.

"Whatever, squirt."

….

_(In the grave of Enza Michaels)_

Three hundred years. Three hundred years she had been stuck on this plane, with no chance of getting out. No sign of what to do or how to get out. Death did not come with an instruction manual, unfortunately. It was all very much hands-on, and Enza didn't much care for it.

Each grave was like a little home, suited for whoever was stuck there. Enza lived in a fairly modest house reflective of the period of time she had lived in. Her sitting room was the best room, in Enza's opinion, with bookcases wall to wall, and many tomes around her. She had a comfy couch, a rocking chair, and several bean bags she had pinched from Jimmy's grave. It was all very comfortable. Why would she want to interact with the living when she could stew here for the rest of eternity, since this seemed to be where she would remain forever.

It was two thirty in the morning, outside her grave, but Enza hadn't popped up yet for almost nine months. Usually, she waited for Marcos or her boyfriend Victor to stop by to tell her about the comings and goings of the living. Most of the other ghosts found it ridiculous that Victor Chesterton and she were dating; they couldn't have children and one day, hopefully, one or both of them would pass on. But Enza had never found her one true love in the realm of the living, and by the Maker above, she deserved _something _in the realm of the dead to keep her occupied.

_Enza! _cried Peanut, suddenly appearing in her living room. He was twisting his cap in his hat, looking around nervously. The blue-purple ghost could sometimes get worked up over the silliest things. Enza assumed he had shown up to tell her Marcos and Alexa were at it again. Peanut was the newest ghost, only having shown up seven years ago, and was still learning how everything worked. Even though he was older than Enza by almost twenty years, he still listened to her every word, because Enza had been here in the graveyard the longest, and was, in Peanut's opinion, the wisest.

_Yes, Peanut? What's happened now? _she asked politely, smiling at him from her chair.

_Two livings. _Peanut gasped. _In the yard upstairs. Young ones, about ten and thirteen, I think. They're talking to Jimmy and Marcos and Alexa right now. Jimmy wants to see you, and I'm supposed to go fetch Victor and Fricorith, so we can all see these livings. Enza, they can see us, all proper-like._

_Is one of them that Goth boy Jimmy was on about earlier? _Enza asked, getting to her feet. Livings were exciting news, as they so rarely came to visit, unless a loved one had died. Even fewer had ever been able to see the ghosts. This _was _exciting.

_I think so, the older one probably is. But the younger one, I don't recognise. No one's met him before-a new comer! _Peanut looked very excited now, jumping and clapping his hands as he spoke. He was twitching every few seconds, his whole body spazzing. Peanut was really just a very big child. In fact, that was what had gotten him killed, curiosity. He had gotten much too curious about his nephew Stan's jelly bean bush, which had led to an early demise for the poor soul.

_I'll go fetch Victor, you get Fricorith. We'll all meet up on the ground to introduce ourselves to these livings. Real livings...who can see and hear and talk to us? I never would have imagined! Oh, this is wonderful. _She smiled, brushed off her dress-which was really not necessary, as ghosts couldn't get dirty-and floated into the next grave, where Victor was.

_Victor, we've got visitors! _Enza cried, making the man jump. He had been dancing around to the radio he had snitched from some house a few years ago. (The couple had been moving anyway. Rule number one in the graveyard: You don't steal from the living who will notice.)

_What? _Victor asked, turning the radio off and facing Enza. _Livings? Or more ghosts?_

_Livings. _

_Really? How fantastic! Can they...see us?_

_See us, hear us, talk to us, according to Peanut. We've got to go say hello and talk to them. What month is it? I haven't been up in ages, Victor, what month is? Oh, do I look decent enough for company?_

_You look fine, Enza, now come on, before the livings get bored and leave us. _Victor said impatiently, all ready to meet the boys up in the realm of the living. Enza nodded and grabbed Victor's hand, floating upwards with him.

….

_**Just so you know, I'm not sure how far into this I'm going to get, because the Tragic Clown has been something that first scared, then saddened me very early on in my life. **_

_**Now, as you are probably aware, Sims the Original came out in 2000, when I was just 2 years old. When I was 7, my parents allowed me to play the original game on our old desktop. I used to spend hours building a creating worlds for my Sims. When I first encountered the Tragic Clown (after spending nine weeks with the same family, they finally dropped low enough, mood-wise) I was extremely scared. I didn't play the game for another two weeks, I was too scared and frightened. **_

_**But now, looking back at the portrait of the Tragic Clown, I feel...pity for him. Recently, it seems as if I've been having conversations with Sunny, telling me to write this story. I'm sure it's not true-how could a character from a game be talking to me? I'm almost positive it's just weird dreams-but it just feels weird, because writing this...I feel so sad talking about Sunny. It's silly, I know, but I feel a connection to him somehow. I'm not crazy, I think, but Sims has always been a part of my life, and so has the Tragic Clown, in a sense. **_

_**When I started playing the Sims 3 a few years ago, one of the first things I did was check the graveyard of Sunset Valley. (I always am very interested in the elaborate history of Sims.) I found the grave marker of the Tragic Clown and Opal Suarley, both drowned. This startled me, and I once again took a break from the game. But, soon I was back, and determined to revive them. I had to wait for Ambitions (I had no idea about any secret hacks), but the second I could, I brought the Tragic Clown and Opal back to life and moved them into a house together. It was all very strange, like seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and they're completely different. I knew the Clown was a little creepy, but not a murderer, like my friends tried to tell me. He couldn't be! **_

_**These dreams I've been having recently seem to only emphasize my theory that the Tragic Clown isn't a murderer, nor is the the weird guy everyone thinks he is. I dunno...this is all kind of creepy and a little far-fetched, but it's leading to a great story, and if it makes me feel better, then so be it. **_


	4. Opal: A Quite Fantastic Time

_**In case you're curious, Opal Suarley actually, physically shows up Opal, Chapter 3, which would be the...6th chapter? **_

_**Opal, Chapter 2! **_

….

(_December 1997, In the Strenner household, Front Parlor_)

Maggie looked outside her window briefly, contemplating. This was quite unusual for her; she usually acted without a thought, which often lead to hasty decisions and loud arguments with her husband. But Maggie liked being jumping the gun, being reckless. It was what had brought her to Sunset Valley. Without it, she had been doomed to live on her parent's farm until her father had bothered to find some forty-seven year old farmer who would barely support her and her nine kids, like her sister, Bryony. Poor Bryony, stuck back in Appaloosa Plains. _She _had wanted to be a nurse, not a mum. Rather like Maggie's eldest daughter, Alice, who had run off to Bridgeport to become a musician.

Speaking of Alice, she was meant to be coming for Christmas at some point this week, along with her boyfriend. Magnolia-for that was her birth name, even if no one had called her that in years- hadn't see her eldest daughter in over four years, not since she had walked out the door, intent to make her own path. It had been hard to see her go, but over the past couple of years, Maggie had realised how wise it was to let her children do their own thing.

Seeing as Maggie was a little skittish about putting two unmarried adults in the same room, especially since she knew nothing about this 'Harvey' of her daughter's, she had decided to put him in Arthur's room. It had taken a week to figure it all out, who went where, but she had it all down now. Arthur and Harvey would sleep in one room, along with Alfred, if he decided to spend the night-this was unlikely, as he had mentioned staying at his girlfriend's place. Adelaide and her husband, along with Tomas, would all sleep in her old room, while the other three girls would sleep in Amelia's room. Amora, who had been kicked out of her room, had whined and complained, especially since it meant one of them would be sleeping on the pull-out, but the house only had four tiny bedrooms. There was just nowhere else to go.

Maggie glanced back out the window, then at the Christmas tree set up in the sitting room. Yes, this Christmas would probably be one of the best. All her children would be here, at least for Christmas morning and dinner, and she could finally explain to her daughter how Maggie had decided to support her in everything she did. But was it too late? Had Alice already moved on, far beyond her mother's reach and concern? No, she couldn't have, or she wouldn't bother returning for the holidays.

….

(_Inside Matt Streckler's car_)

Harvey and she drove in silence almost all the way through Bridgeport, winding through Twinbrook. About an hour ago, they had spotted a sign for the toll booth leading into Sunset Valley, when Alice finally started to become nervous. She was still processing the past days events, between revealing her pregnancy and becoming engaged, all in this tiny claptrap car. They had stayed at a hotel last night, but around noon today, Alice had begun noticing signs for her home town.

"You excited?" asked Harvey, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go. He was smiling at her, even if their eyes were not connected. This was one of the few times Harvey Suarley allowed himself to believe that soul mates was a real idea. "I'm pretty excited to meet my wonderful fiancee's family."

"I'm nervous, actually. What if they don't like you? What if my mum tries to pair me up with someone else, or my dad intimidates you into going fishing with him? What do I do if the house burns down?"

"Alice, calm down!" laughed Harvey. "None of that is going to happen-especially your house burning down. I'm sure everything will go very smoothly, your parents will approve of all this, and we can drive safely around town, looking for our future home with the baby."

"Can you promise me something, Harvey?" Alice asked, looking down at the bump that was barely visible under her dress. She remembered her own mother, who had given birth to Alfred at the age of nineteen. She had been married at seventeen, having not even gone to university or finished high school. Raising a family had been her only goal, the oldest daughter from the poorest of farms in Appaloosa Plains. In fact, Maggie's only real hope out of _that _sort of life-because, believe you this, Marigold Strenner was a hard-worker, but _not _a farmer's wife-was marrying to someone out of town. Alice wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do with her life, but being a permanent stay-at-home mum was _not _on her list, at all.

"Anything, love, anything in the world."

"Promise you'll support me in everything I do? Even if it means becoming a pianist on the streets or a politician or whatever? Promise you'll never force me to give up what I want just to take care of the kids?"

"Of course not, Alice. We'll hire a nanny or ask someone to baby-sit. I won't mind, and I'm sure the baby won't either. Though, you'll have to settle for local gigs; I won't stand for you going off to France or something to play. The French don't understand decent music, anyway."

Alice giggled, but she still felt rather nervous and unsettled. What if her children grew up having no idea who she was? What if they considered a _nanny _more of a mum than she?

"It just sounds so selfish, that I want to put my goals above my children. Do you think I'm being selfish, Harvey?"

"Absolutely selfish, yeah. One hundred percent, I think." Harvey said, smiling. "But that's okay, because the only way we will support that little baby in your belly is to do our jobs and to do them well so that we can make money and have something to show our kids so _they _know how to accomplish dreams."

They had finally pulled up to the borders of Sunset Valley. Alice could see the hills around her, small lakes that she remembered weekend trips up to with her dad. The air was much cleaner than in Bridgeport, animals more free. She spotted three deer as they pulled up to the toll booth leading into town, and smiled. Her grandfather had once accidentally run into a deer when Alice had been seven and they had driven the half hour back into town, post-poning their camping trip, just to fix the poor thing up at the vet's.

Not for the first time, Alice wondered why she had ever left such a beautiful place for the nasty, smelly, over-crowded city of Bridgeport. Harvey had been right, her _mother _had been right; Alice never had and never would be much of a city girl. She loved the open air too much, enjoyed the wildlife that didn't just involve rats in her apartment. There was more room to live, to _thrive_. She finally saw why her mother had moved here to start a life. The town was decent enough sized and there were plenty of opportunities for a new family.

"It's a simoleon and a quarter," said Harvey, shaking Alice out of her thoughts. They had pulled up alongside the toll booth and a heavy-set woman was looking on boredly as Harvey scrounged around for money. "Have you got any change in your purse?"

"Here," Alice said, handing him a simoleon. He smiled, and, having found a quarter in his pants pockets, handed it all over to the woman, who merely scowled and took it. She was blonde and had droopy eyes, a sure sign of someone who had done their job too long and despised it. Alice felt rather sorry for her.

"Have a nice day," she said to the woman, trying to be nice, but the woman only scowled even more and waved them on wordlessly. Not exactly the best way to usher someone into town, Alice thought to herself.

"Well, she was cheery, wasn't she?" asked Harvey, chuckling. "I hope the rest of the town is a bit nicer than that."

"Yeah, they are, don't worry. Though, I don't recognise her from when I left. She must have arrived in the past few years," In fact, as she drove by, Alice realised several things had changed over the past four years since she had left. She certainly recognised the Crumplebottom house, where old Prudence Crumplebottom was watering the garden, but it seemed that just to the left, a new house was being built. Alice certainly didn't recall the fancy bistro they passed, coming into town.

"Everything is different," she mumbled, and, quite irrationally, felt tears spring to her eyes. Nothing seemed the same to her. The houses were different, the people were different. Why had everything changed why she was gone? Couldn't time have frozen, everything stayed the same until she returned? But at the time, she had to scold herself. Of course the town had moved on without her, why wouldn't it?

"Don't cry, Alice," said Harvey, looking at her wildly. "Why're you crying, aren't you excited to be coming home, seeing your family? Oh, please don't cry, I don't want your mum to kill me before I even properly meet her."

"Just...just pull in here," she mumbled, waving her hand at the parking lot in front of the library. "Give me a moment to calm myself. I don't know _why _I'm crying; there's nothing to cry about, it's just the same old Sunset Valley. It's only just changed a bit. I'm not sure why I'm being so silly."

Harvey did as she said, pulling in front of the library. Alice tried hastily to wipe her tears, watching an old woman hobble into the library, a little girl following behind. She recognised the woman from somewhere. Harvey looked at her, worried. He had never seen Alice act this irrationally, and wondered if it meant something bad.

"It's probably hormones, from the baby and all, right? All the crying? Although, now that I think about it, two months is a little early for hormone problems, isn't it? I'll have to pick up a book. I might be a paramedic, but I've never really dealt with pregnant Sims. This is going to be interesting. Maybe you've just realised how homesick you were, Alice."

"I'm just being silly, is all, Harvey. Just silly and emotional. Give me a second, and then we can keep going."

"You sure you want to say hello to your family in this state?"

"I'm a _girl_, Harvey. A bloody _girl_. I can wipe my eyes off, they'll never notice." She did just this, pulling a tissue out of the glove box and dabbing at her eyes. Her mum might notice, but she wouldn't confront Alice until later that night, when everyone else was in bed. But her dad and her brothers would be pleasantly oblivious, probably right up until her uterus was bursting, the baby ready to come out.

"Pull in here," she said, pointing at a small blue house. It had a nice wrap-around front porch and was two stories. Harvey noticed the lovely flowers and bushes everywhere, and even from the street could see the edges of what was probably a decent garden in the backyard.

"My dad's got his own little place out back," Alice explained. "Well, he's got his own little place just about everywhere out here. My dad-he's an unprofessional gardener. Kind of funny, my mum moved here to get away from farming, and she ended up marrying a planting enthusiast. His _real _job is over at the science facility, fixing robots, but he was always outside with his plants when I came home from school every day. My brothers and I, we used to help. Dad's not that old, only forty-six, but I've no idea what he's going to do when we all move out and his knees go bad."

"He sounds lovely," said Harvey, parking in front of the house. On the front porch, he spotted several rocking chairs and a suitcase, laying on its side. "Is someone moving out?"

"No idea," said Alice, frowning. "C'mon, let's go knock on the door."

"No doorbell?"

"Broke, years ago. Alfie kicked a football at it and smashed the whole thing, when he was about eleven years old. He had gotten mad because Dad wouldn't let him join the footie team. Mum and Dad never bothered getting around to fixing it."

"Lovely," said Harvey, laughing.

"Yes, they are. C'mon, Harvey," said Alice, opening the door. She nearly tripped, feeling strangely unsteady on her feet. "No doubt Mum's already waiting at the door for us to show up. Heaven's knows how many pies she's made already."

She hesitated, then started her way up the front walk, knocking somewhat hesitantly on the door, turning to look at Harvey, who was following from behind. He nodded, and she turned back towards the door, preparing her best smile.

It was Adelaide, shockingly enough, and _not _Mrs. Strenner, who opened the door, a baby on her hip. Her light brown hair was tossed up into a messy braid and her blue eyes looked worn, tired. But, upon seeing Alice and Harvey, she smiled brightly.

"Oh, it's Alice and her boyfriend! They've come home for Christmas, just like they promised! Merry Christmas, Alice and boyfriend, it's nice to see you." she said, turning and allowing Alice and Harvey inside. "It's nice to see you again, Mozart. Give me a sec, I'll go put Tommy in his crib for a nap. He's still getting used to sleeping proper hours."

"She seems nice," said Harvey, giving Alice a crooked smile. Alice rolled her eyes, but nodded all the same. Addy quickly came back downstairs, an excited look on her face. She really was just a sixteen year old girl, mum or no.

"It's so nice to see you again, darling," Addy said, kissing her sister on the cheek. "You've missed so much. Alfie's got himself a girlfriend, did you know? Some looker named Heidi. She's always coming by for lunch, but they've got their own little place at a friend's to crash. Oh, I like your dress. You look lovely."

"You've gotten bigger, " Alice teased, looking down at her sister's belly. "Don't tell me it's Tomas all over again? Another little one on the way?"

"Might be." Adelaide said coyly, directing them towards the sofa in the sitting room. She did indeed look bigger, her stomach extended ever so slightly, and her dress just barely turning the lump of a maybe-baby into possible post-pregnancy weight. In fact, if Alice hadn't known her sister had worked all her excess weight off, she wouldn't had noticed the unusual bulge.

"Addy, you're sixteen! Tommy's only five months old to begin with!" Alice was shocked. Sure, she knew that Adelaide had always wanted multiple children, but not so soon or close together.

"Mum's supporting me, don't fret, we've got it all under control. No thanks to you."-Alice began to protest, but Adelaide merely brushed her off, smiling. "Oh, don't worry, I'm all aware that you're trying to live your life the way you've always wanted. Not anyone's fault you didn't want to be a housewife like me. And besides, we've got the funds to support another baby. It will be nice having the kids so close in age; they'll be best friends, I know it. No twelve year gaps between _my _kids, thank you."

"Mhmm," said Alice.

"I'm looking for nanny jobs anyway. Nix's job at the bistro is lovely and all, but I want to be surrounded by children all day, especially if Mum's fine with taking care of mine. Or maybe I'll open up a daycare-we really need one in town, anyway, don't you think, with the sudden increase of people moving to town. The Goths have come back again, to _stay _this time, I think. Then again, that's what they said last time."

"Whoa, Addy, slow down, I've only been here for five minutes. I forgot how much you talk." The two laughed comfortably, and Harvey smiled, realising how at ease his fiancee was at her home, even if she hadn't been by often enough, or written enough letters.

"So, who's this, then?" asked Addy, focusing her gaze on Harvey. She looked him up and down curiously, then smiled reassuringly. He looked decent enough for her sister, as long as he treated her right. "Is this the boy you were writing about, Herman or whatever?"

"Harvey, actually." Harvey said, reaching out to shake her hand. Adelaide took it, her eyes warm. Yes, he would do well enough, she thought to herself. "Harvey Suarley, the first and only of that name. Very pleased to meet you, Adelaide. I've heard so much about you from your sister."

"Ah. And we've heard so little of you. Mum will have a fit when she hears you've arrived. I'll have to tell her-"

"Tell me what?" asked a middle-aged woman, coming into the sitting room. She had the same light hair as her daughter Adelaide, but the same cheery green eyes as Alice. There was age lines, barely noticeable, and the laugh lines easily over-powered any drastic signs of aging. She looked between Adelaide, Alice, and Harvey, trying-and failing-to appear very stern. "Well? What is it you're going to tell me, Adelaide?"

"Only that Alice and Harvey are here, Mum. That's all."

"So I've noticed. As has the neighbor's baby. You need to get that engine fixed, young man," Maggie said, looking at Harvey. He blushed.

"We borrowed it off a friend, ma'am. I'm sorry to have disturbed your neighbor."

"Don't fret about it, Harvey. I don't particularly care for the neighbors anyway. She needs to learn how to take proper care of a baby. Leaving her at the park, bumming the poor thing off to friends like her daughter was a package or something. Honestly!"

"Mum!" said Addy and Alice at the same time, embarrassed.

….

_(1997, At the Outstanding Citizens Corporation)_

Her name here was 'Bear', which irritated her, but a criminal in training had to have a secret name. If they got caught, she wouldn't know any proper names to report, just dumb stuff like 'Shark' or 'Razorback'. They always wore masks, large black ones that hid any discernible traits, along with hats. Everyone here was in charge of themselves and keeping their selves safe. You get got, it's your fault and you take the beat.

She had been caught once, on a minor job. A full night in jail, then her partner, 'Jam', rescued her, paying full bail that he couldn't afford. Someone up top had made a mistake, placing her with 'Jam'. She knew who he was, and he had seen her face. They had made the fatal mistake of falling in love. But, 'Jam' never properly acknowledged her at work, and she pretended like she didn't know who he was. They would laugh about it later, in bed, as their bodies rolled over and over on each other, but for those seven or eight hours on the job, they were strangers.

This sort of work was killing her. She didn't _want _to be evil, or a thief. She wanted to fish all day, surrounded by roaring water and the sound of seagulls diving in for a meal. But the OCC had been the only form of occupation she could do that paid decently enough to actually survive. 'Bear' had seen the salary of a fisherman or fisher woman, and it wouldn't be enough to pay for the nice house she had now, thanks to the OCC.

Even if she _did _regret her choice of job, it gave her a thrill to sneak into houses, right past the alarm-trusting that whoever she was working with that night knew how to disengage the alarms, of course. She could steal anything she wanted, anything she could get her hands on. Lamps, computers, priceless paintings; all hers with a simple swipe.

And it felt even better returning with the stolen goods, when the bosses would praise her for a job well done. They spoke of promotion and raises, but she didn't care about that. All she wanted, _really wanted_, out of this job was for them to look at her and say "Good job, Bear.", or "Excellent work, Bear." As long as they acknowledged that she could do her job, she was content.

Besides, she had plenty enough time on the weekends to fish.

….

(_The Strenner Household_)

Dinner was a noisy affair that night, with too many people and not enough spots at the table. Finally, Mr. Strenner-or Alfred as he had insisted Harvey call him-came up with the idea to grab some old sheets and turn dinner into a picnic in the living. It was too cold to go outside, and Maggie didn't want Tomas getting a cold. Harvey and Alfie helped Mr. Strenner move the sofas out of the way and Amora-who was a pretty little girl, with the characteristic dark hair of most of her family-set out all the plates. Harvey couldn't imagine doing something like this when he was a child.

There were twelve people in all, gathered tightly around the picnic sheet, and it was rather hard to hear. Alfie, who was twenty-six, was aspiring to be a teacher one day, and kept talking about how much fun it was with the young kids. Arthur and Amelia argued over whether or not the newest Johnny Splinter movie (Johnny Splinter: Splinter Cell) was any good. Addy kept trying to keep Tomas in his spot, and the dog-a little seven year old mixed-breed mutt named Schnitzel-kept barking to be let in, as Maggie had put up a gate to keep him out.

After dinner, Alfred and his girlfriend begged off, claiming they were tired and had to leave. Amelia went upstairs to put Tommy to bed with a shout of "It's my turn!", with her sister following closely after.

"Can you help me with the pull out, Mozart?" Amora asked, tugging on Alice's hand. Her sister smiled and nodded, heading deeper into the house.

"How about you and Arthur do the dishes, eh, Harvey?" said Mr. Strenner, getting to his feet. "Maggie and I usually retire by ten. Don't stay up too long, Arty," He stretched, sighing, before wandering away.

In the bedroom shared by Alice, Amelia, and Amora, the two girls were stretched out on the pull out, talking.

"What's Bridgeport like?" Amora asked.

"Well, it's fancy and glitzy. There's lots of people and parties all the time. But it's very hard to make friends and hardly anyone seems very happy at all."

"Are you and Harvey happy?"

"Oh, yes, very much. We love each other. In fact, we're going to get married one day. He's given me a ring and everything. Don't tell Mum or anyone else though just yet, I don't want them to know."

Amora glanced down at Alice's hand and then squealed. "You're getting married? How long has this been going on? When are you getting married? Oh, what're you going to tell Mum? She'll kill you-I bet she will, you ought to have told her!"

"I've no idea _when _we're getting married, just that we are, Amora. And I _will _tell her. You know, eventually. What?" she asked. Amora had given her a disbelieving look. "I _will _tell her, but not right now. It's Christmas time. We need to focus on Christmas and being all together. Telling Mum I'm getting married will only make her frantic."

"Are you going to have a baby, like Addy?"

"One day, yes. Sooner than we had hoped, though."

"What does that mean? Are you pregnant?"

"What it means is that it's time for _you _to go to bed, little miss!" said Alice, tickling her little sister. Amora squealed, trying to pull away, but Alice grabbed her, and they rolled all over the bed, giggling and playfully tugging at each other's hair.

"Enough, enough! I surrender!" Amora finally shrieked, collapsing onto the pull out, breathing heavily. Alice stopped, snuggling against her sister. _This _was the kind of stuff she loved, these little moments of peace and comfort. Lying next to her sister...the entire world could be ending around them and it wouldn't matter. Her fiance was in the kitchen, her family was all around her. She was, finally, where she properly belonged. _Home. _

….

_**This chapter was a lot harder to write, strangely. Oh no, it's too early to get writer's block! I, uh, don't really have a writing schedule, it just goes as it goes, but I'll try to post every week or so. Just understand, if I have a chapter, I'll post it, no matter what. **_

_**We're also going to pretend that in this story, all the Sims 3 expansion packs apply, from World Adventures to Seasons. This means that anything in the game can happen in this story. **_

_**Alright, last statement: I'm creating a family tree for this story online, and I'll post the link soon. **_

_**Next time: Sunny, Chapter 3!**_


	5. Sunny: Learning to Grow Up

_**So, it's raining, we've got no power, the fireplace is going, there's at least a dozen candles burning, and my computer is slowly dying. This is fun. This is really, really fun. **_

_**Maybe not my best chapter. **_

_**And now for Sunny, Chapter 3! Enjoy! (Please bring my power back as well?) **_

….

_(1971, Goth Manor, The Next Morning) _

Gunther managed to talk Sunny into going home that morning, before his parents got _too _mad. Sunny tried to explain his parents probably hadn't yet noticed his absence-which is why he wanted to stay the whole weekend, so they'd notice he was missing-but the older boy insisted on walking him home. It was just past seven in the morning and only a few people had ventured outside, mostly people on the early bird shift, such as mailmen. Sunny waved to a few people here and there; they waved back, greeting him, but Gunther made no sign of wanting to be pleasant. He walked stiffly down the street with his hand on the little kid's shoulder, guiding him through town. Sunny didn't think he needed to be escorted, but Gunther was determined. He wouldn't put it past the little kid to just say he was going home and then slip off somewhere into town. Besides, there were lots of things around town that weren't safe for ten year old boys. There were even plenty of things that Mr. Goth-Gunther's father-had insisted _he _didn't mess around with.

"We'll say you spent the night at my place, just for the night. If my parents ask, I'll tell them the truth-well, _most _of the truth. That is to say, I'll tell them you were in the graveyard last night like the foolish little ninny you are." said Gunther rather gruffly, his tone harsh. He still had one hand still firmly placed on the little boy's shoulder.

Lots of people liked to assume that Gunther was just a grumpy teenager,-they liked to make little comments about remembering being that age and the surliness that came with being thirteen- but he actually was just rather shy. This little kid, though, irritated him so much. But at the same time, he was the first person-outside of Gunther's own family, of course-who had ever bothered to be polite to him. This weird little kid with the nice clothes and the ability to see ghosts, and Sunny was the first person he had found here in Moonlight Falls who could do that,...was it possible for Gunther to find someone in town who could be a, dare he even think it, _friend_? Was it possible that he was finally going to find a friend in Moonlight Falls.

This was another problem he had with all the moving his family did. They constantly switched back and forth between where they lived, jumping from place to place, town to town, country to country. His parents owned an ancient manor in almost every place they'd ever lived. Moonlight Falls, Sunset Valley, Shang Simla-his family owned land and property in these places as well as many more. Certainly, the Goths would never truly want for anything physical, but money didn't buy permanent friends, nor did it buy instant popularity. Often, the Goths only stayed for a few years, usually one or two, and Gunther had few chances to make proper friends. That's what he didn't really understand about this kid. He had been pretty popular at school, many times Gunther had seen Sunny surrounded by friends, but the kid had suddenly turned away from all of them, turning into a little terror.

"What I don't understand," he began slowly. Sunny had slowed down to a plodding trudge, like he didn't really want to go home. "what I just _don't _understand is why a perfectly normal, perfectly _happy _kid like you is doing running away from home."

"I wasn't running away. I was always intending on coming back; that's not running away. That's taking a vacation so that my parents see the error of their ways."

"What's that mean, the 'error of their ways'?"

"I dunno. It's what our maid always says. Hilda-every time I do something wrong, she punishes me and calls it seeing the 'error of my ways'. I'm not really sure what it means, but if it makes my parents realise that they don't spend enough time with me, then I'm all for it."

"Your parents don't spend enough time with you?"

"Not really. Mostly they just work all day. My brothers are both out of the house, but Mom and Dad never seem to pay an attention to me. They've always wanted a girl...I guess three disappointments is enough for them. I hardly ever see them, just before school and sometimes on weekends. I'm not allowed to come by while they're on duty, either."

"Oh," said Gunther. His family was a little strange, but they all loved each other, in their own way. His mom and dad always gave him hugs and told him how important and special he was. Mr. and Mrs. Goth always would make sure to buy him presents and had raised him with all the attention they could. He had never been raised by a maid or a nanny, like Sunny seemed to have been. What must that be like, realising your parents didn't love you? He felt sorry for the little kid.

"That's my house, just there," said Sunny, pointing at a large, modern house with lots of windows. In the backyard was a hot tub, and the entire place looked rather polished. Sunny had mentioned his family came from middle-class, but this house showed a family obviously trying to play at being richer than they were. Gunther rolled his eyes; the Andrews were probably a couple of snobs who would look down on Gunther, because of his name. "Would you like to come in real quick?" Sunny asked, turning to look at him. "We've probably got juice boxes or something,"

"Uh, sure, kid."

The front door wasn't even locked. Sunny just opened it and walked on through, not even bothering to call out, announce his presence. No one seemed to have noticed the door, either. His parents didn't come running, no one asked who was there. The house just seemed cold and lonely.

"Mom?" Sunny called, waving Gunther on into the kitchen. "Mom? Dad? Hello?"

"In here, son," called a male voice. It must have been Mr. Andrews. Sunny and Gunther walked deeper into the house, where the living room was located, where two Sims sat on the couch, a man and a woman. They didn't seem angry or upset; if anything, they were ecstatic. The man was dark, the woman pale like Sunny. She didn't even glance at Sunny, too preoccupied with her phone. The man, Mr. Andrews, smiled briefly at his son.

"Hello, Sunny, didn't hear you wake up." he said, sounding distracted. He didn't question the presence of Gunther.

"What's going on here, Dad? Is everything okay?"

"Okay? _Okay_?" He laughed, a booming and happy sound. Sunny's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't heard his dad laugh like this in ages. "Of course everything is ok! It's more than ok! Your mom...now remember, Sunny, we've been wanting this for years. We won't love you any less-"

"You don't love me very much now," Sunny mumbled under his breath.

"What was that, son? Anyway, your mom and I are proud to announce you'll be getting a little sister in about eight or nine months! Now, you might ask, _how _do we know it's going to be a girl, when we've had so many boys already? Well, as soon as your mom found out she was pregnant, we went to a specialist. Some Jolina Sim over in Twinbrook. And he says that your mom is most _definitely _going to have a girl! Aren't you excited?"

"Yeah, Dad. Really excited." But Sunny didn't look excited. His face had dropped and it was as if he had been slapped in the face. His parents hadn't even _noticed _he was gone. They didn't care that he had a strange boy in the house, or that he was dirty. And now, after all this time, they were finally going to have a little girl to replace him. He hated his parents! He _hated them! _How could they? How _dare _they have another child to replace him?! Was this how Jakeb and Beau had felt, each time Mom got pregnant? Knowing they might be replaced by a baby girl? How _dare they replace him! _

He stormed off, into his room, his face red. Behind him, he could hear Gunther following, but Sunny didn't want to talk to Gunther. Gunther, who's life was perfect, with no stupid, stinky little kids to replace him.

"That's not fair!" he yelled, slamming his bedroom door. Gunther settled on the neatly made bed, calmly watching his little friend. The boy had gone very red in the face and looked close to tears. "It's not fair, it's not _fair! _I hate them! I hate them-do you know what they're doing? Do you _know_? They're replacing me, Gunther! Replacing me with a baby, and this baby will get more love than me, because it's going to be a stupid little girl! I _hate _them!"

"You don't hate them, Andrews-"

"You don't know anything, they're not _your _parents! Your mom and dad love you and take care of you; mine left me to be raised by the maid! And now they've gone and replaced me with a baby and I _haaaaate _them!" Sunny shrieked, throwing himself on the floor. He pounded the ground, shrieking and howling. Gunther wasn't really sure what to do, he'd only ever seen very little children behave like this. He stayed frozen in his spot on the bed, waiting for Sunny to eventually wear himself down.  
Sunny screamed for ten more minutes before dying down, his voice spluttering down to nothing as he realised it was doing no good. Screaming didn't make him feel better; instead he was hot and sweaty and felt rather silly. Gunther was still on his bed as Sunny got to his feet, sighing.

"You done yet, Sunny?" Gunther asked casually, his knees tucked into his chest. He made brief eye contact with the kid before Sunny blinked, looking away. His entire face was red with embarrassment as he shrugged. "That make you feel better, then?"

"Shut up. I still hate them and their stupid little precious baby girl. I don't care what you say or do, or what anyone else says-" and here his face was very set, his eyes hard as he spoke. Gunther could tell he was entirely serious. "-no matter what, I will _not _accept being second place to any little girl. I will _not _accept my parents just discarding me because they got the child they want. If I need to, I'll leave. Don't try to stop me, Gunther, because I'm completely serious; If they stop paying attention to me altogether, then I'm done. I'm leaving."

"Where would you go? You're ten years old."

"My brother Beau is moving to Sunset Valley. I'll move there, just watch me. If they...if my parents just completely give up on me, like some sort of failed project, I'll move in with him, ten years old or not. Jakeb or Beau will adopt me. _They'll _raise me properly."

"I could talk my parents into adopting you," Gunther was joking and Sunny knew it. The smaller boy just rolled his eyes and fell into his desk chair, heaving his chest with a loud 'hhnh!'.

….

(_At the Goth Manor, 1975, July_)

Sunny, now quite a tan and lanky fourteen year old boy, sat under the shade of an elm tree next to seventeen year old Gunther Goth. Sunny was in the earlier stages of puberty, his skin beginning to flaw and his voice constantly cracking. The two didn't speak, too busy avoiding the harsh rays of the sun. It was summer, mid-July, and Gunther had abandoned his usual dark clothes for a purple t-shirt and black shorts, both sewn personally by his mother as birthday gifts. His hat, which he had saved up for for months, sat next to him as he lifted his head, feeling the sunlight slowly browning his face.

Sunny, on the other hand from Gunther's hand-made clothing, wore a blue shirt and khakis from the department store. His parents, as Sunny had predicted, paid him very little attention, but he always received nice enough clothes for his birthday and before school each year. His skin, usually darker than Gunther's any other time of the year, was now practically brown. He wore sunglasses, and his feet were bare, his shoes somewhere inside.

Gunther and Sunny were best friends, despite the three year difference between them. Well, they were best friends in the sense that they spent their summers at each other's houses and pranked each other and visited the graveyard by themselves. No one else knew about their secret, which was what Gunther and Sunny wanted. The other boys in Sunny's grade had begun calling him strange names liked they called Gunther, and Gunther could see it hurt. Sunny liked to pretend like he didn't feel anything or hear any of the taunts and insults, but Gunther could see the droop in his shoulders and the way he sometimes gazed sadly at his old friends. Sunny used to be popular and on the basketball and baseball team. But now, with his secret adventures to the graveyard and his not-so-secret friendship with Gunther, Sunny had no other friends. He merely drifted through school nowadays, a ghost. In the high school, he was practically non-existent, only really showing his true self after school, when no one else was around.

Gunther was beginning to regret calling Sunny over to talk. The way his eyes gazed over the pond in front of them, and he didn't even have any other plans this summer-Gunther knew this because Sunny had mentioned it over the phone the other week. Pretty soon, Sunny would be totally friendless, and there was nothing Gunther could do about it.

"So, why did you call me over here when it's over ninety degrees and most sane people are staying inside with their A/C on full blast, but we're crazy and different, which is why we're soaking up this nice UV?"

"Don't be sarcastic, Sunny," said Gunther jokingly. "It's not becoming."

"Okay, seriously, Goth. Why am I over here? I was going to go visit Martha today. She's single now and _really _pretty-"

"As well as _my _age."

"And?"

"Whatever, crazy child. Anyway, I called you over here because this will be our last summer together, probably for a long time."

"What?" Sunny was sitting up now, his sunglasses clutched in his finger's. He gawped at Gunther, daring him to laugh and say he was joking. Sunny didn't want to be alone at school when he entered the tenth grade. He didn't want to just be another loser who amounted to nothing, which is why he had become friends with Gunther. Gunther forced Sunny to have fun, to live life. Gunther was the one who had called the police when Mrs. Andrews' water broke, and when Sunny had tried to kill himself last fall. What was he going to do if Gunther was gone?

"I know you're mad at me, but it's not _my _fault. You know my parents, always moving around. We're going to Twinbrook, for how long I'm not sure. I'm really surprised we stayed in town as long as we did, almost five years, but this is just how things are. We move all the time. Dammit, Sunny, don't glare at me! Of course I _want _to stay. But I can't."

"You're almost eighteen. You _could _stay with your sister Lolita."

"She is moving to Sunset Valley. She's living her life the way she wants it, my parents and I are moving, and there's no one here to watch after me, so _I _can't stay. And now, you'll just kill yourself over all this and who's going to stop you?"  
"I'm not going to kill myself, Gunther. I'm _over _that."

"But I'm going to have to go with them, don't you see? And I won't be coming back-I'm going to University, to become a business man like my dad. By the time I graduate, _you'll _be in university, doing your own thing. This will be good for you. You can find a nice girl, live a nice life, and stop being friends with weird old me. You'll see-things will be better for you."

"But will they be better for _you_, Gunther?"

"Sunny-"

"No! Just tell me, will this be better for you?"

"It won't be any worse. I'll be just as strange and just as grumpy and just as alone. I'll live in town for another year or two, then be on with my life as I try to fall into the mutual attraction that most people call 'love'. Preferably a girl, but you never know how these things work out."

"And what? I'm just supposed to be Mr. Popularity again? Captain of the basketball team and all that? What if I don't _want _that sort of life?"

"Well, what kind _do _you want?"

"One with the ghosts, over in the graveyard. I want to be alone and with no one to bother me, like them. I want no little annoying baby sisters in my house and no name calling or parents who don't seem to see me. I want things to be the way they were four years ago, when we first met."

"Things aren't like that anymore, though. This is how life is now, Sunny. Grow up and realise that." Gunther got to his feet, heading inside. Sunny remained on the grass, startled. No one had ever told him to grow up quite like that. He was burning with anger and loneliness, but also a great sadness. His best friend was leaving and he didn't want that. He didn't want to be alone and he didn't want to be popular with a bunch of meaningless friends. He wanted Gunther to stay and Martha to notice him.

Gunther was right, Sunny _did _have to grow up and realise how life really was. He had to realise that life sucked and he was only here long enough to maybe make a small difference, before becoming one of those quiet spirits in the graveyard.

….

(_A disclosed location in Sunset Valley, 1975_)

They were not to tell anyone about the strange rocks. Not a soul could know, especially the cops. It had been Ada who had found the first one, a simple black rock, not unusual in the slightest. Until she had brought it in to show off, and Jack had cracked it in two, revealing gleaming blue stone within. The boss had been very, _very _interested in the shiny stones, demanding that, if they were to find anymore, all would be brought in to him.

The group found plenty of dark rock with weird glowing stones, and had brought in every single one. But the OCC was run by sticky-fingered kleptomaniacs, and it was only a matter of time before one of them got a bit too interested. Before one of them just couldn't _resist _the sparkling gleam of a whispered fortune. He couldn't help it; he had to heave these things in-and sometimes, they could be bigger than a man, and he wondered how no one else had noticed. Well someone would figure it out eventually, when each stone was counted that night, but Kane-which was what he was intending on going by now, to protect himself from the OCC-would be long gone by the time they figured out he'd stolen a dozen stones. Hopefully, he'd be on his way to Riverview or something of that sort, gone to a life of comfort and relaxation. Or, he might be dead, his body dumped in the ocean; no one would know where he was, if the boss got to him before he got out of town.

There were plenty of people who knew he was working on the stone project, but none knew him personally, certainly not enough to notice his absence before the first couple of days. Sure, they would realise a handful of stones were missing, but how long would it take to work out who was missing? Who was missing because they were on missions or vacation? Who wasn't coming back? How long before they worked it out that Kane was the one with the rocks, and how long would it take to find out where he was running to? With any luck, it would be at least a month or two before they started searching. But Kane usually didn't have the best of luck-just look at his job!-and he guessed he probably would only have a week at most to hide out somewhere safe.

But Kane wasn't that worried, he had plenty of time. The other passengers on board the boat with him hadn't even seemed to notice him, just another face. He smiled briefly out the window, then sighed, relaxing comfortably in his seat. An hour until they'd set off, and then he could start his new life, safe from weird rocks and strange behaviors and the threat of death at any moment.

He could feel the stone in his bag, which was resting against his leg. His entire duffel bag, stuffed full of the blue and purple stones, and no one seemed to notice. Kane felt as conspicuous as if he'd had a bomb with him, but it had gone through baggage easy as you please, no complaints and no requests to check it.

….

_**No! Ok, um so things have happened in my life which had shortened the amount of time I have access to the computer. Sorry, this might mean my weekly updates become biweekly or something. I really am sorry, guys. (I really will try to update as soon and as much as possible.) **_

_**Feel free to review so that I know how you feel about it. **_

_**Next time: Opal, Chapter 3! (In which Opal actually shows up! And not at the very end of the chapter, more like in the middle of it...more or less...well, basically she shows up at some point, so review-favorite-follow and wait for Opal Chapter 3.) I hope to have proper chapter names soon. I promise. Eventually. **_


	6. Opal: Unprepared and Frantic

_**Hello, ladies and gentlemen. How nice to see you all again. Anyone from the southern area of America also wishing for this cold weather to turn into actual snow? My friend Kristal went up to Michigan and played in the snow for the first time ever in her life. Quite exciting stuff. **_

_**I think this is a personal best for me! I usually write 1500-2500 word chapters, but all of these have been at least 3000. So, because of that, I've decided the word limit is not allowed to dip below, say, 2800? Yeah, that's going to be my minimum limit. Help me out here, guys? Just tell me if you think the chapter seems too short. **_

_**Never given birth, so I'm not sure how accurate this all is. This is all sort of based off when my friend's mom went into labor a three years ago. (Her name is Angela. She's a sweet little thing.) Slightly graphic, might want to...I dunno...not read when little ones are around? Don't want to scar anyone else. **_

_**Are you ready for another episode of Tragic, which involves babies, ghosts, strange rocks, and the occasional decent portion of writing? Well, ready or not, here is Opal, Chapter 3! Enjoy. (I don't own any of the technology mentioned in this story. The 'Easy Machine' belongs to EA and the iPod belongs to Apple.) **_

….

(_Flat 4C, Bridgeport, 1998, August_)

Somewhere in the flat, Alice could hear the telephone ringing. She groaned, tossing her pillow off the bed. Through half-lidded eyes, she looked at the harsh sunlight pouring in from the windows. Harvey had probably pulled the curtains aside trying to wake her up, but Alice was a heavy sleeper even _before _she got pregnant. Now, it was an absolute nightmare trying to wake her up. A quick glance at the clock confirmed her suspicions. It was already eleven-fifteen in the morning. She had wasted the entire morning sleeping.

Plodding into the kitchen, Alice spotted Harvey's handwriting.

_Alice,_

_Gone to market. Out of bread and milk and such. Be back by one, promise. Don't do anything silly, or daft, like usual. And don't bother getting the mail. I've already fetched it. (Not that I mind it, my heavy sleeper.)_

_Love and kisses,_

_Harvey_

She smiled to herself. Harvey was always leaving her notes. It was kind of cute, the sort of thing they did on television families all the time, but at the same time, made her feel like a little child again. Don't do anything silly? How old did he think she was, ten? She was twenty-two years old now, almost twenty-three! She could take care of herself.

Breathing deeply, Alice shook her head. Harvey was probably just concerned for her and the baby, from a medical standpoint. He wasn't being condescending, only careful.

The telephone went off again, startling her. Alice had forgotten all about the phone. Harvey and she didn't have mobiles yet, only the land line, which rang very loudly and often liked to erase their voice mails. It was was a hassle, but the phone was certainly faster than their five year old Easy Machine. The phone rang again, sounding almost angry this time.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," she muttered, stumbling out of bed. "Jus' give me a mo'. Probably telemarketers and the like, anyway. I don't need any of their nonsense right now. I'm pregnant, leave me alone!" she yelled at the telephone, which was shaking and ringing in its pocket on the wall. Alice paused for a moment to wonder why it hadn't fallen of yet, but then shook her head, moving towards the phone.

"Hello?" she began, ready for some smooth-talking businessman trying to talk her into a fancy insurance deal or to donate clothes to some 'charity'. "We aren't interested in whatever you're selling-"

"Selling?" repeated Maggie Strenner on the other phone. She was still in Sunset Valley, raising her last two children, the twins. She called her daughter every day almost, just to talk. The nervous mother that she was, Maggie sometimes even went to the library just to email Alice. "Who's selling anything?"

"Oh, Mum! It's just you. I thought you were some telemarketer or such. They're always calling us, day and night. It's going to be a nightmare when the baby's born."

"Why didn't you answer the first time, Alice? Were you still asleep? It's almost noon,dear, you better not have been sleeping! What a waste of day! You know, _I've _already started on supper for this evening, and I've even stitched up little outfits for your baby. Started 'em just Monday."

"That's all very exciting sounding, Mum."

"You oughtn't be sleeping so late, Alice. It's not good for you." Maggie chastised her daughter. "It's not going to be good for the baby, either. You're such a heavy little sleeper, always have been."

"I wasn't sleeping, Mum!" Alice lied, turning back to look towards her unmade bed. It was rather hot now, in early August, and the a/c in their flat was constantly breaking. She was already sweating. Alice just wanted to go back to sleep and ignore the day.

"Mhmm." said Maggie, clearly not believing her daughter. She had raised six children, four of them girls. She knew when someone was lying to her. She especially knew her eldest daughter Alice, and all her sleeping habits. "Well, it's not too hot there, is it? We've got about a dozen fans in each room here, but we're all still sweating like pigs! And with that many bodies packed into such a place as Bridgeport-I can only _imagine _how sweltering it must be!"

"It's not too unbearable, Mum. I can manage, don't fret. Harvey's fine, as well, thanks for not asking."

"I hadn't gotten to him yet. I was just about to ask. Is he still working at the hospital? Going to be a doctor one day, that one?"

"Yes, Mum, though he's still a paramedic right now. Speaking of Harvey, he should be home soon. He's gone to the shop for milk. He's left a note."

"Left a note? How sweet. Your father would never leave a note when he goes off. Just drives away without thinking about how much it worries me. Always been like that, your father."

"You married him."

"I did, didn't I? Guess all his little quirks just don't add up to all that much trouble, do they? Anyway, I called to ask how _you _are, really. You and the baby. I haven't gotten a photo in a while. I left you some emails, too, but you didn't answer, which I why I called."

"Mum, honestly. I've been busy!"

"Sleeping?"

"No! I've been...reading...about babies and how to feed them and hold them and everything. I've been studying and all, that's what I've been doing. Honest."

"Studying babies? _Studying_? Who needs to _study_ how to take care of a baby"

"Doctor Samelski says-"

"What does he know? Has he ever been a parent?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Exactly! He doesn't know how to raise a child! If you have questions, it should be _me _you ask, not some cracked up doctor who's never had a single child in his life! I've had six!"

"Mum, calm down. It's only a book. You act like I've been ignoring you this entire past eight months. He's a trained doctor, he knows what he's doing when it comes to babies. Maybe not as much as you," because here, Maggie had huffed disbelievingly. "-but certainly he knows enough. And I've been asking you questions and getting your advice, even more than Doctor Samelski. Just calm down, okay?"

"I am a bit frantic, aren't I?"

"Just a bit, yeah."

….

Her mum wasn't joking when she said she'd emailed her. Six emails, all within two hours. _Six! _Besides that, she had fourteen other emails from Hannah and other various friends at work. Oh, Watcher. She really ought to have waken up earlier.

9:16, from Mum

_Alice, I'm at the library. Oh, this is Mummy, by the way. I was just wondering if you were going to come home next week, like I suggested last night. You never really gave me a definite answer. Please email me or call me back soon._

_-Maggie&Alfred_

9:19, from Hannah

_Ali, hey! There's this par-t & I thot u mite wnt 2 cum with? Know ur preg & all, but wont be any beer, just a get-tgther 4 group. Hvnt seen u in 4eva! Plse say yes? _

_-ur bestie, Hannah! _

9:23 from her boss, Diana

_We're having a slight party tomorrow night for the band and a few others. Great chance for some connecting, if you know what I mean. If you're too big to go, I can have Hannah stand in your place for you. Hope you do come, though. It will be ever so much fun. _

_-Diana McIntyre _

9:27, Mum again

_Alice, why haven't you answered? Are you okay? Everything fine? I'm sure you've been busy preparing, but don't stress yourself too much, dear. Please answer me.(P.S., it's still Mummy)_

_-Maggie&Alfred_

9:40, Mum

_Where are you? Is something wrong? Is it your computer? The baby? Alice, please respond. Or Harvey, one of you. I'm getting worried. Your father says hello, by the way. (Still Mummy)_

_-Maggie&Alfred _

Alice sighed, setting her head on the keyboard. She didn't feel like dealing with this right now. So many emails just in her inbox. Alice was almost afraid to check her spam folder. She needed tea, and now. Heading into the kitchen, she ruffled around for a moment, looking for the teabags. Harvey had insisted she cut down on how much tea she drank-something about it harming the baby-but she hadn't had any all day and she wasn't ready to face the world without at least a proper cup first.

Alice turned on the sink, filling her teacup with water. She sighed, setting her cup in the tea-maker and began doing the dishes. As she stuck her hands into the hot, soapy water, Alice reflected over what had happened the past few months.

Harvey had ordered a fridge, which he claimed had its own water dispenser, but it wouldn't be coming in for another three or four weeks, most likely after the birth of their child, from the way things were looking. For now, they were making due with drinking from the sink, which really wasn't all they bad, considering just a few years ago, Alice had been struggling to even keep up with her bills. They were not rich, not nearly as free with money as Hannah. But Harvey and Alice were not on the edge of homelessness.

The bills were paid, and there was money enough for food and things like a decent fridge, or a decent flat. There was enough money, Harvey said, that if she wanted to go to university, it was always a possibility. After the baby was born, of course. But Alice had explained that university simply just wasn't for everyone-certainly not for her. There was nothing she could be taught at school that would help her musical ability.

No matter what, though, Harvey _had _ended up as the main breadwinner, bringing in most of the money from his paramedic job. Alice was grateful that he had such a fantastic job, she really was. They certainly weren't going to be able to buy cribs and potty chairs with _her _salary.

"I'm your own personal Prince Charming," Harvey would joke every now and then. She would punch his shoulder and laugh, but it was true. Harvey _had _saved her, she _did _owe him everything, even if he would never accept that.

She was now eight, though just barely, months pregnant and her stomach was very noticeably bulging. She had just one check-up left with the doctor, and then they would only have to sit around and wait for the baby. Her mum had demanded pictures every few months, for progress and sent letters back warning her what to do and not do, what to eat and how to sleep and walk. A '_very important rule_' ,as her mum put it, was that Alice was not to put the baby in any sort of danger. Stairs and people with knives were at the top of this list. (That's what Maggie seemed to think all of Bridgeport was, people with knives, just waiting to gut pregnant young girls.)

But her mum _had _scared her enough into staying inside, putting her career temporarily on hold. Alice didn't go outside for much longer than to fetch the mail or for a breath of air. She had given up on showing her face to the outside world, at least until the baby arrived, but instead sent Harvey out to fetch anything she wanted. However, he was more than glad to be her little errand boy, running around Bridgeport, from shop to shop. She felt guilty, making him buy the milk and bread, but it was a lot safer than sitting on the metro, totally and obviously pregnant.

Even right now, Harvey was in the elevator holding that week's groceries. His keys were somewhere in a pocket, but he didn't have an empty hand to fish them out. Hoping his wife was in the flat and not somewhere else-like, say, the hospital giving birth-Harvey knocked his foot on the edge of the door. His shoe rapped on the door, making a dull thudding sound.

"Mozart? Mozart, you in there?" What had started as a childhood nickname was now a common little joke between husband and wife. It was their own little thing, she was Mozart and he was Mozart's father, pushing Alice to do her very best, no matter what anyone else said. She could, according to Harvey, achieve great dreams on her dinky little piano. He'd even promised her once they had a house-a proper house-in Sunset Valley, he would buy her a real piano to practice on.

"Just give me a sec, Harvey. I've got to dry my hands. Been doing the dishes all morning. Tea's on, too, if you want some. Look at me, lazy Alice. Not done a spot of work all day, that's me. Just woke up a few hours ago, only because my back hurt. Well, that and my mum calling. Can you believe her? Phoning me just because I hadn't answered her emails yet? And, mind you, she's sent four already. I checked. That woman is _mad_. It's a wonder I didn't escape sooner. Just barely made it out when I did, it seems. But, you'll have to turn me out, get a proper maid, because I'm completely useless, really. Haven't done anything at all, not a thing. Useless, I'm telling you." She laughed, and he with her. She wasn't useless, Harvey knew, just clumsy and a poor housekeeper. She wasn't meant to clean and look after things, not like her mum.

"You're not useless, Mozart, only pregnant. You'll be on your feet in no time. Besides, I can clean the place up, if you just let me in,"But Harvey didn't hear her footsteps, or the click of the key in the door lock. Where was she? It didn't take long to dry off your hands.

"Alice? Alice, are you okay in there? Alice, what's wrong?" There was no answer, only silence. Then, a sharp, hollow groan. It sounded entirely inhuman, rather like the animals that were sometimes dragged into the hospital to be put down by the vet that worked with them. Inhuman, sick and in pain.

"Alice, are you okay? How's the baby? Lissy, is it the baby? Is the baby coming?"

"_Oh_!" Alice yelled from inside. "Just drop the groceries, Harvey! Get inside or call the ambulance or something, it hur-_oh my Watcher_! Oh, please, please, it hurts! Please, Harvey, hurry!"

"Um, right," he mumbled, trying to remember what to do. As a paramedic, he wasn't really too involved with pregnant Sims. Usually, the pregnant woman would get herself to the hospital without involving an ambulance. He hadn't helped out with a pregnancy in over a year.

"_Harvey, I know you're just standing there_!" Alice shrieked from inside the flat. She had fallen to her knees and was gasping for breath now. Her stomach seemed to be expanding and contracting under her very fingers. The word '_contraction_' flew through her mind, but it didn't really seem to make any sense. The baby was too early, she wasn't due until September. This couldn't be happening. Not now.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Just..give me a mo', I'm going to call Mrs. Peterson from downstairs. She'll come help."

"She can probably _hear _us already, you loon!" Alice yelled, grabbing blindly at the couch. She was in so much pain, her eyes screwed shut. She couldn't tell where she was going or what was really going on. The only thing she could concentrate on was that her entire being hurt and Harvey wasn't doing _anything _about it. She was going to kill him when this was over. She really was.

"Alice, just sit on the floor and relax. Breathe deeply and relax, okay?"

"And after that I can kill you,"

Harvey, terrified, scrambled over to the call box and pushed Mrs. Peterson's button with his nose, his hands still full of grocery bags.

"Hello?" asked the middle-aged woman from downstairs. "Harvey? Is something wrong? I hear shouting."

"Um, can you call an ambulance? Alice is having contractions. I can't get inside, I've got groceries."

"Why don't you set the bags down and open the door then, Harvey?"

"Oh, oh yeah. Sorry."

"Don't worry, dear. I'll ring up the hospital for you, just get her calmed down. If you can move her, maybe talk Alice into sitting in the bath tub for now?"

"Alright. Bath tub, yeah. Thanks, Mrs. Peterson."

"Don't mention it, Harvey." And with that she clicked off. Harvey, feeling foolish for not having thought of this earlier, dropped the bags and unlocked the front door. His wife was in the living room, hunched over and gasping. There was a puddle around her and she was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Alice, Alice!" he yelled, running over to her. "C'mon, get up. Mrs. Peterson's called an ambulance. She said to sit in the bath tub while we wait. Can you move?"

"Hurts," Alice mumbled. Her eyes had glazed over and her face was expressionless except for the occasional twitch of pain. "Hurts bad." She briefly made eye contact with Harvey, though it seemed to him as if she wasn't really looking _at _him so much as _through _him.

"I know it hurts, but I'm going to move you to the tub for now. So, just relax and try to keep calm, okay?" She nodded, whimpering. Everything hurt so much. She couldn't really see anything and her face was streaming with tears. She felt, rather than saw, Harvey bend down and pick her up, walking her into the bathroom. Her skin seemed to blister when it met the cold rim of the tub. She had been boiling, nearly, with heat, but now she was almost in shock as Harvey began slowly filling the tub with water.

"Hurts," she gasped, looking down at her arms. They didn't seem to be melting, though it certainly felt that way. Just then, another contraction hit her and she screamed, gripping Harvey's hand. "_OH!_" she shrieked.

"Just calm down, calm down. Mrs. Peterson has called the hospital, they're on their way. You need to calm down Alice."

"The baby isn't supposed to be here, Harvey. It's early. Make it stop. It's not meant to be here early. Make it stop."

"I can't control when the baby comes out, Alice, just relax."

"They're on their way-the ambulance!" cried Mrs. Peterson bursting into the bathroom. Her blonde hair, usually in a neat bun, was disheveled and her face flushed. She looked quite excited. "You call yourself a paramedic, boy? Move out of the way, let me see to her." She rolled up her sleeves, grabbing various wash cloths and towels.

"You sure?"

"I've had two boys and a girl, Harvey. I think I know how pregnancy works, thank you very much." Mrs. Peterson snapped, pulling Alice's shirt off. "Now, go do something useful like putting up the groceries. It will only slow everyone down if they just sit scattered in the doorway."

"Oh...yes ma'am."

"_Hurts_!" Alice shrieked.

….

(_Sacred Spleen Memorial Hospital, 1998, August_)

"Well?" Harvey asked the nurse coming out. It had been hours since he'd seen Alice. Seventeen hours,, actually, and it was quite obvious. He had only had three hours of sleep and gulped down some sort of food. The nurse chuckled at Harvey's shaky appearance. He was a mate of Harvey's, named Carlos Hernandez. Carlos smiled at Harvey encouragingly. His uniform was covered in blood and other liquids, but he seemed excited and happy.

"Plenty of blood and guts everywhere, but they're both fine now. Little girl, mate. She's a little girl, a sweet little thing. Got all ten fingers and toes, perfectly normal. You got a name for that baby in there? Your wife's fine, but we had to put her under for now. One hell of a kicker, that baby."

"Names?" Harvey couldn't remember the name they had agreed on. Some sort of stone, he remembered that part. Diamond or something.

"Yeah, baby's got to have a name, doesn't it? Going to be confusing if we don't give it a name. Can't call it 'Baby' the rest of her life, can we?"

"Amethyst. We were going to name her Amethyst. Amethyst Olivia Suarley. That's her name. Amethyst." A rock. Definitely a rock. Harvey was in shock. He just couldn't get it through his head that he was a dad of a pretty little girl.

"Pretty. I like it."

"Yeah. Amethyst...yeah. I'm a dad."

"You are."

"I forgot the cigars. You're supposed to hand out cigars when they baby's born, aren't you? Or is it chocolates? I forget."

"Well, that's alright. How about you sit down now. I think you're in shock, Harvey."

"Yeah,"

Just then, inside the delivery room, someone screamed. It was female, and it was Alice. Harvey's head jerked upward, and he stood up, moving forward.

"Alice!"

"No, Harvey, you can't go in there!" yelled Carlos, pushing him back.

"You said she was fine! You said she was asleep!"

"She was!"

"_Oh my Watcher! _Someone, get in here and help! Carlos!" yelled the doctor, opening the door. "Get in here, now!"

"Alice!"

"_Help me_!" Alice shrieked from inside. "Please, somebody _help me_!"

….

_**Alright, alright, so I'm a liar. Sorry! I really thought Opal was going to show up in this chapter, but things just didn't go that way. I'm not in charge of it, really. I just write it how I see it happening. But, for sure, she'll show up in chapter 8. FOR SURE! **_

_**Okay, so I promised 'up by Friday', and I suppose I really ought to make my posting dates on Friday evenings/Saturday morning's, but I've got school starting up again, so there is no telling when and where I'm going to have access to a computer to write. Basically, what I'm saying is: don't eat me if I can't post every week. It might take two or three weeks to write a chapter. But don't worry. I always post as soon as I've finished the chapter up. **_

_**Next time on Tragic: Sunny, Chapter 4! **_


	7. Sunny: Sunset Valley and Plans Beyond

_**'Ello. Nice to see you all again. Have a nice time since the last chapter? So did I, avoiding school & driver's ed. Yeah, I'm 15 now, and that means learning how to drive. Bully for me. **_

_**Quick note about the story: Opal's part takes place beginning in about 1996 (Opal was born in 1997) while Sunny's part starts in 1971. (Sunny was born in 1961) We're going to assume the whole Sims 3 actually does start in 2009.(When the game came out)**_

_**Don't own the car Kompensator-that's EA's. **_

_**Of course, you're all here for Sunny, chapter 4! (Honestly had no idea how to start this chapter. Sat around for an hour thinking to myself, What to do, what to do?) **_

….

(_Jolina household, 2008_)

She had been living in Sunset Valley for seven years now. Seven years of her life, in this old-fashioned town, with little options. Sure, she was a trauma surgeon over at the hospital, and pay was good, the people friendly. She ought to have been jumping with joy, knowing her life was pretty decent. She was only twenty-six years old. She should be _happy_. But sometimes it all just got so boring. The same people over and over. The same job, the same routine every day.

Many times, Jamie had considered moving. She had the money, she had the talent to apply at any hospital she wanted. Plenty enough families were flooding the streets of Bridgeport, or Lucky Palms. But, she felt it deep within her core, something keeping her stuck in this place. Like she was supposed to find something or someone. Jamie was logical; she gave very little courtesy to the idea of fate and purpose in life, or anyone who lived with that sort of nonsense. And yet, when she had seen the ad in the newspaper for this house, the way there had been a position at Sacred Spleen, as if it was all waiting for her. She wasn't religious-she hadn't gone to church since she was twelve-but perhaps, just perhaps, there _was _a Watcher out there, guiding her.

But no, she told herself, shaking her head. This was no divine intervention, no trick of fate. It was only a matter of good timing and keeping her eyes open for possibilities. Besides, no one ever seemed to be bored of town. Of living here, the same thing every day. No one seemed to have been pulled in by fate, or by the word of some mystical Watcher. But then again, most of the families here had been here for generations. Decades or even centuries. She had been here for only seven years. No family, no history. Just a young woman, a little blip in the history of a sleepy town. There weren't too many parties around town, and most of the movies playing at the theatre were several years old, compared to what else was going on in the rest of the world.

Jamie sighed, opening her front door. The paper delivery girl, Cora Francisco, waved at her from the street, clambering back on her bike. She had been delivering the paper for four years now, and always said hello to everyone in town. A very polite girl, a very polite stranger. Just as everyone else was in town.

"Morning, ma'am." Cora said, smiling at her. The Franciscos lived just a few blocks down from Jamie. She had greeted this twelve year old every morning, without every really asking anything about her. Maybe, Jamie thought to herself, that's what she needed. Maybe she needed to change her schedule, talk to someone she had never talked to.

Jamie bent down and picked up the newspaper, but didn't really look at it. It probably was just the same thing: nonsense about the Landgraabs and the Altos. Gossip about Isabella Bachelor and Mortimer Goth. That was why she would never want to be a journalist or a reporter. Too boring, too trivial. They were all a bunch of gossips.

Jamie's phone buzzed and she glanced down at it. A text from work.

6:56

_Ms. Jolina, we're a bit flooded in at the office. If you wouldn't mind coming in a bit earlier than usual, that would be fantastic. We might need extra back-up for tonight's shift as well. A promotion might be in your future if you do. _

_-Doctor Geoffrey Landgraab _

She sighed, pulling on her uniform. What had the hospital in such a fuss now? She had been just about to enjoy her morning tea while reading the paper and possibly watching the news. But, when duty calls, the strong answer. Besides, any shot at a promotion was enough to motivate her.

Because she didn't look at the newspaper, Jamie went to work completely oblivious. She didn't know, unlike anyone who _did _read that morning's paper, that two bodies had been found just a few nights ago in the pond at the graveyard. She didn't understand why there seemed to be policemen hanging around town, or why Doctor Landgraab seemed so tense all day, no matter what. As far as she was concerned, today was a normal day, just with a few unexpected twists. But, it didn't affect her, right? She wasn't concerned, why should she care?

What Jamie didn't realise was, in the morgue last night, two policemen and Doctor Geoffrey Landgraab were examining the half-decomposed bodies of Opal Suarley and an unnamed man who had been labeled 'The Tragic Clown', due to his unusual clothing and his look of eternal sadness, etched upon his face. No one recgonised him, but the girl was a familiar case.

The girl was only ten or eleven years old. She had been missing for a year now, when her mother had filed her as missing with the police just over a year ago. She had a sister in town, and several aunts, uncles, and cousins. The last time she had been seen was wandering around town with friends, who claimed she had wanted to investigate the nearby graveyard. None of them had wanted to go with her. She was reported missing twenty-nine hours later, and never found. Until now.

It was clearly a case of drowning, her skin blue and cold. But, the man had also been drowned, and there were marks of abuse on both bodies. Was this a case of double homicide, or a homicide/suicide?

Eventually, it was decided that the man had strangled the girl to death in the pond, holding her underwater, then killed himself. The reason was unknown, but at least, finally, the Suarleys could bury their youngest daughter. That's all that mattered in the end, that the case was closed and the answer found.

But, Jamie didn't know any of this. She hadn't read the newspaper.

_Young Girl Murdered, Body Found in Pond With Killer! _

_Reasons behind the murder-committed last October-are as of yet unknown, but both the killer and the victim were found recently, sunken in the pond at the town graveyard. Police are looking in on it now. _

….

(_The Andrews household, 1980_)

"Your brother...he's a little weird, isn't he?" Victoria said, looking at her fiance. That was all she knew about Beau's family, that they were a _little weird_. She knew nothing about the teenager in their living room right now, because her fiance had _told _her nothing about him. Beau, twenty-nine, shrugged from where he was sitting at the kitchen table. He and Victoria had been engaged for three years now, but neither were very rushed about getting married. They were in love, yes, but right now, the focus was on supporting themselves.

When Beau was twenty-two, he had graduated from university, and moved to Sunset Valley with his then girlfriend, Victoria Schmidt. He had hated going home, where he didn't fit in. Beau was the only one like his father, dark-skinned in a family of pale-skinned people. People had stopped him on the street his entire life, asking if he'd been adopted. It was embarrassing, when people thought his own flesh and blood wasn't his to claim properly.

Besides, when his youngest siblings, his little sister, had been born, Beau was twenty-one years old. Jakeb had been twenty-eight! Beau had felt awkward at home, where his parents cooed over and coddled baby Miracle, and his brother Sunny wandered stony-faced throughout the house. It was crushing to go home over the holidays, when often, he wasn't noticed. So, he stopped showing up for Christmas dinners.

Beau had believed he was safe from his family, safe from any connections to his old family. There was no reason for anyone to believe he was Beau Andrews, the second son of Peter and Diane Andrews back in Moonlight Falls. Beau Andrews, the weird little oddity amongst his family of oddities.

And then, Sunny, nineteen years old now, had shown up at his door three nights ago. He was shaking and wet, his eyes wide and tired, his body unnaturally skinny. He had obviously hiked and trekked his way here from Moonlight Falls, though why, Beau wasn't sure. All he knew was that, until three nights ago, life had been fine and calm. Now, though, he had this teenage boy sleeping on his sofa and a weird twisting in his gut. Why did his old life always have to come back and haunt him?

….

(_Andrews Household, 1980_)

Victoria Schmidt looked in on the figure sleeping on her sofa. She was, and had always been, a very caring person. She was nurturing down to her core, and it hurt her heart to see how skinny this little boy was. He didn't seem that strange, not in the way that Beau had explained his family. Sunny seemed just as normal as any other Sim she had met. Sure, it was slightly odd that he wouldn't explain _why _and _how _he had managed to get all the way here from Moonlight Falls, but that wasn't too bad.

She had cooked him nice meals, cleaned him, bought him fresh clothes. He thanked her with small whispered words, and shyly ducked away from any questions. He was scarily thin, but didn't seem sick. Sunny had insisted she not drive him to the hospital, but she made him promise that if he felt sick, he'd tell her.

At this point, it didn't matter why was here, as long as he was mentally and physically safe. From what Victoria knew of the Andrews family, Beau and Sunny's parents had always craved for a daughter, only to be given three boys. Victoria didn't understand how anyone could be displeased with three wonderful, perfect boys, but the Andrews had. They had craved their little girl to the point of neglecting their currently existing children. Beau had spoken briefly of being raised by his brother and a maid, only to turn around to raise his own little brother.

The Andrews had gotten their little girl eight years ago, a precious baby girl that they named Miracle Georgina. Apparently, even with their deepest wishes fulfilled, they had continued to ignore their youngest son, and he had run away for whatever reason. Beau hadn't been home in over six years, he didn't know what was going on.

"Why are you looking at me?" asked a quiet voice, and Victoria jumped, making eye contact with the dark blue eyes of Sunny Andrews. His blonde hair-a complete contrast to Beau's dark brown-stuck up in every direction. His cheekbones were hollowed in, making him look rather ghostly. He smiled at her politely, getting up. "Why are you looking at me, Victoria?" he repeated.

"Sorry, I got lost in thought."

"What were you thinking about, Victoria?" He was always so polite. It was almost eerie, how he constantly offered to do laundry or the dishes for her. Victoria's own brothers had always made messes and tried to get other people to clean it up for them. Beau, also, made messes and didn't seem to think it was his job to clean them. But Sunny always seemed to be so eager to do chores for her.

"I was thinking about you and your family. About why you've run away. Was it because of your sister? Are you angry at her? Your parents? Is it because they had your sister?"

"If I was angry at my parents for having Mira, I would have left eight years ago, when she was born."

"You weren't a legal adult eight years ago. Maybe you were just waiting for the chance to escape when you knew no one would come looking."

"They wouldn't come looking anyway, not until the school noticed. Trust me, I _tried _that plenty of times." He smiled coldly, his eyes sad. Victoria watched him clench and unclench his fists, almost unconsciously. He was tense and angry, but Victoria didn't understand what his words meant.

"They're your parents, though. They _love _you."

Sunny laughed, an empty laugh devoid of any true emotion. "_Love _me? Hasn't Beau told you _anything _about our family? We all get out as soon as we can, because Mommy and Daddy don't know how to '_love_' their children. They raised us with maids, or making the oldest take care of the younger ones. Why do you think Beau moved here? Why do you think my brother Jakeb is in France with his wife and his daughter, too afraid to come home? Why do you think I run away, time after time after time? We don't _like _it at home! We're not _loved, _we're not _coddled _or _hugged _or told how good we were as children. We were born and then we leave as soon as possible."

"Surely your parents can find it somewhere within their hearts to say 'I love you', even once."

"If it ever happened, which I doubt, it happened long before I could remember it. And if I don't remember it, then as far as I'm concerned, it never happened. Just you wait. Just you wait and see how good of a father Beau's gonna be, with no father of his own to guide him."

Victoria felt a burning sensation in her whole body. "Now you listen here! How Peter Andrews raised you or Jakeb or Beau is _no _reflection on how Beau is going to raise my children! How dare you imply he'd make anything less than a perfect father-"

"Don't they always say that the actions of a father are reflected in the son?" Sunny replied, sneering at her.

_Crack! _

She slapped him. Victoria couldn't help it. He was frustrating her and insulting her fiance-his own brother! She had never slapped anyone before, and now she'd gone and done it. Slapped this poor boy. He had a red mark on his cheek, in the shape of a hand, where she had hit him. She cringed as his own hand moved up to touch it. He winced slightly and turned to look at her. His eyes were once again dull and emotionless.

"Suppose I deserved that, didn't I?"

"No-"

"'Course I did. I was being rude to you and rude to Beau. I'm sorry, Victoria. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course I can, Sunny. I didn't mean to hit you."

"I know." he shrugged and walked into the kitchen. Victoria followed after him, watching as he made two turkey sandwiches, one for him and one for her. He turned and offered her one, and she smiled, taking it. Victoria thanked him and asked if he wanted to sit on the patio and eat.

"We can make a proper picnic of this on Saturday. Us three in the park with sandwiches and chips and drinks. Doesn't that sound fun?" she sat down on a patio chair across from him. As she spoke, they studied each other, like prey and predator, sizing each other up. Distrusting for the moment, but not quite suspicious. Not yet.

"Never been on a picnic before,"said Sunny, taking a bite. "My family...we weren't one for get-togethers and gatherings in the park. I often didn't see my parents until just before bedtime, or a little bit after."

"Really? Even on weekends?"

"My mom runs the grocery store and the book shop all day, and my father is a businessman. He sells products for his company. Don't ask me what, I've no idea. He never told us what he sold at work, like it was some big old secret. Back when I thought my parents were different, I used to pretend he was working with superheroes, making and selling them tools to help save the world. When you're little, anyone can be a superhero, I suppose. Even absent fathers."

"Well, how long do you intend on staying here?"

"What, with you guys or in Sunset Valley in general? Because, I'm not really sure about either. Might be a few months before I get on stable grounds, might take longer. Mind you, I'm not trying to freeload or anything, only just figure out how to take care of myself."

"You could always just throw yourself into it all."

"Or not," he replied, smiling. "Legacies aren't for me. Living poor and trying to build yourself up-that's not my thing, not really. Like I said, I'm not a freeloader, but I'm meant to be getting an inheritance on my twenty-first. From my parents, if they don't just forget me again, like usual." He smiled suddenly, shrugging again. "Look at me, I sound like a broken record. Always talking about dear old Mom and Dad."

"It's okay, I'm fine listening-"

"No you're not. You're tired of hearing about them, aren't you? Listen, Victoria, maybe we _should _all have a little picnic, just the three of us. A proper family. It would be nice. We could have ice cream."

"I'd like that, Sunny. I really would,"

"So would I."

….

(_Everglow Academy and Colosseum, Moonlight Falls, 1980_)

She was born Miracle Georgina Andrews, and she was eight years old. She had three older brothers, and two parents, and a personal maid named Nina Costello. She had any toy in the world that she could possibly want, any game she wanted to play. Her mommy and daddy loved her very much, hugging and kissing her, constantly telling her how precious she was.

She was very, very alone. So very alone.

Her oldest brother had disappeared long before she was born, already married and living in France. They had a baby girl, this little girl named Rosa. Her niece. She had met Rosa once, shortly after the infant's birth, just a few months ago. Jakeb didn't call often. He was thirty-four now.

Her next brother, Beau, lived just three hours away, in Sunset Valley. If the pictures said anything about him, he had a nice house and a nice fiancee. He worked at the stadium in town, selling snacks, but one day he was going to be a famous athlete. He was twenty-eight.

And then there was her youngest older brother. Nineteen, called Sunny. He was supposed to be a girl, the doctor's said, so Mommy and Daddy called him Sunny. Because he was going to light up their lives. Except he was born a boy, and Mommy and Daddy were already in their forties when he was born. There was no guarantee that their would be any more babies, not after Mommy had almost died having Sunny.

But then little Miracle was born. Little Miracle Georgina Andrews. Sunny hated her. Oh, when she was little and too naïve to realise it, she liked to think that perhaps Sunny was only just jealous. He wasn't the youngest anymore, of course he'd get mad. But now she was eight, and she had a letter from her only remaining brother, who she hadn't seen in nine days.

_Mira,_

_I hope you realise this: that it's not your fault. None of it. Not really-I can't blame you for being born, even if I want to. It's Mom and Dad who's the problem. You're going to realise, when you're older, that not everyone is pleased with who you are. You're going to disappoint someone. It's only human nature. I only pity the day that happens. _

_When I finally realised I had completely disappointed Mom and Dad, I was ten years old. I didn't know about you yet, but I felt neglected anyway. I began turning from my friends and lashing out, hoping they'd notice me. But then, you came along. Mom took such care with you, taking her pills everyday, phoning the doctor. They confirmed it as soon as possible, a little girl, clear as can be. And I was left behind. _

_Not many children had their own personal nanny. Not many children have their own playroom as big as a small house. But you do. Because, Mira, you _are _a miracle in every way. You were a blessing to Mom and Dad, but also a message to me. I had to get out of that house as soon as possible, because if I didn't, I was going to end up as Dad's apprentice. Sure, he had his daughter, but the business he runs can only go a son, and both Jakeb and Beau have already turned _that _offer down. I don't want to run a business, I'm not suited for it. But you are. _

_Mira, understand that I love you very much. I just couldn't handle it anymore, the lack of attention, the lack of love. I apologise. I'm sorry if I've hurt you or scared you. But I will return one day, don't worry. I _will _be back one day, when you're older. _

_Love, _

_Sunny _

She had no brothers left. They were all gone, having run away from home, each in their own direction, on their own path. She had everything a person would want in life, when it came to childhood, but right now, what she needed was a brother-and she no longer had one of those. Miracle Georgina Andrews tucked the letter back up, putting it in her pocket. And then, head in her hands, she began to cry.

….

(_Fae Ray Gardens, Moonlight Falls, 1984_)

"About these rocks, then. You've been finding them all across the SimNation?" The man looked down admiringly at the gleaming rock, his eyes wide with greed. Even one of the stones could make him wildly rich, if the right buyer was interested, and the right price worked out.

"Specifically in Sunset Valley, if the records can be trusted-"

"All over? Does that include Moonlight Falls? Would we be able to dig them up here, as well?"

"I suppose so, sir, but-"

"All over. That's fantastic, Suzette. Fantastic. I'll speak to my contacts. We'll begin digging. All over, you said?"

"Yes, sir. All over, sir. But-"

"But what?" he turned to look at his assistant sharply. She gulped and held her clipboard in front of her face. Mr. Peter scared her, with his big shoulders and hard gazes. He made her feel like a child, a ten year old girl back in kindergarten. He was large and intimidating. She had only been working for Mr. Peter for a few weeks now-she didn't know anything about him, not even his last name. Everyone at the office called him Mr. Peter. And here he was, staring her down. Suzette's knees quivered, knowing she could so easily die right now.

"What could _possibly _be wrong with this, Suzette?" he demanded. "Please tell me, what has your half-witted little brain thought of, with it's silly little fantasies of old college days, old school days where you thought you were free, and smart, and an _individual. _What could have possibly come up with? Go on, I'm dying to know." He smirked as she stuttered, tripping over her words, trying to think.

"Well, sir, they're not exactly _legal_. The stones were found on accident, by coincidence. Completely random, and no one's ever really sure where they're going to turn up, though the boss of this whole thing, Mr. Wolff, has some ideas about it all. Besides, about Mr. Wolff, sir-I don't really trust him or any of his family. I mean, they don't even acknowledge him on the family tree, do they sir? And there's something strange about the lot of them. I don't trust him and I don't like this job he's got us doing."  
"And? This all sounds perfectly fine to me."

"It is, sir, but we're working with _criminals_, sir. Finding stones and auctioning them at private events is one thing, but working with thieves, smuggling them through China and black markets-sir, if we're caught, we'll go to jail! You'll be disgraced, and the company will-"

"Never mind the company, Suzette. Mr. Wolff agrees with his business partners, and I think we ought to go 'full steam ahead', as they say."

"But sir-"

"No more, Suzette! I'm a very busy man, very busy. Lots of work for you and me. I'm not sure why I allowed you to drag me over here for some silly little worries. You're being paranoid, and your fears are completely unfounded. We're not going to get caught, not as long as you keep your mouth shut." He got to his feet, giving Suzette a threatening look. She felt goosebumps running up and down her arm, and in that second, she knew the truth. Mr. Peter and Mr. Wolff were dangerous. They were going to do something illegal that was probably going to get someone killed or in jail. And, as far as Suzette could see, she was the only expendable one in the group.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Suzette? You will not speak of this-any of this. Is this clear?"

"Yes, sir. Understood, sir." She remained frozen on the park bench as he looked down upon her, a master talking to a small child or a dog.

"Very good, Suzette. Very wise decision. You're such a lovely girl-I'd hate to see you die." He smiled grimly at her, bent to pick up his briefcase, and walked off to his car. Suzette watched as he climbed into his Kompensator, rolled down the window, and smiled at her. It was a very cruel, very cold smile.

She shivered.

….

_**Sorry it was so dialogue-heavy. So much speaking, so little doing. **_

_**This chapter was a lot easier to write, which is why it came out so soon. Wow, I feel awesome right now. I guess this means we'll be sort of throwing out the Friday evening/Saturday morning thing, eh? Don't worry, that is my posting goal, either way. **_

_**Next time, Opal, Chapter 4! (Where she honest-to-God, actually shows up!) **_


	8. Opal: Dark Secrets Unwravel

_**The daycare design is based off Kristal's remodel of the 'Shotgun Style' home, which I don't own. The Suarley home is also based off of Kristal's remodel of the Americana. The Shotgun Style & Americana is EA's, and the designs are Kristal's. (Which is basically my way of saying that Kristal designs all my houses for me, because she's an amazing Sim house builder.) **_

_**Oh, ok, one last little disclaimer: Um, the Sim/nurse Kirsty is (also) not mine. She is a Sim of my wonderful friend, Colm, who enjoys making Sims for me to...uh...test. Her real Sim-name is Kirsty Westenschemier, so, yeah. Aelwen is mine-I've made her myself. One of my first Sims, actually. **_

_**Sorry about the wait...I got distracted by my new Doctor Who DVDs that I got for my 15th birthday! Yeah! David Tennant & Matt Smith and oh dear...sorry, I'm going to cry again. I miss Amy and Rory so much! (Give me a mo', I have to grab a tissue.) **_

_**But never mind that! For now it's time for Opal, Chapter 4! Whoohoo! I am way too excited about this! (AMY, RORY, COME BACK!) **_

….

(_Sacred Spleen Hospital, Bridgeport, 1997_)

"I don't understand," he said, trying to make eye contact with one of the attendants rushing around him. They turned away, clearly busy or too scared to look directly at him. "I don't think I quite understand what's going on. Why won't anyone explain to me _what in the hell is wrong with my wife_?"

No one answered. He might as well have been invisible. His work colleagues. People he had known for years, all now slipping past him like he was an embarrassment. Harvey wanted to scream. He wanted to bang on the ward doors and demand answers. But, he knew, none of these things would bring his wife out any faster. He just had to wait and pray and hope.

"Noswaith dda, Syr Suarley." _Good evening, Sir Harvey._ A young woman said from behind him, and he spun around, completely startled. She had dark hair that was done up in little curls and her green eyes made her seem no older than sixteen. She was small, very small, probably not even five feet.

"Sorry, what? I think I might have misheard you." He looked down at her, startled. She smiled, wrapping her large pink coat even more tightly around herself, and shrugged.

"Mae'n ddrwg gennym, weithiau rwy'n anghofio lle yr wyf. Byddaf yn anghofio fy mod yn SimNation, ac nid i Gymru. Fy ymddiheuriadau-gweler yr wyf yn gwneud hynny eto yn barod!" _I'm sorry, sometimes I forget where I am. I forget that I am in SimNation, and not in Wales. My apologies-I see yet again that I have forgotten! _She laughed, almost at herself it seemed. Harvey stood there puzzled. He had understood only one word, and that was SimNation. The rest of it was a confusing jumble of words that didn't seem to quite _be _words.

"Can you speak English, ma'am?"

"My apologies, Mr. Suarley." she began in a heavy accent. "I sometimes forget where I am, what language I am meant to be speaking. It is all confusing. English is, as you can most likely see, not my first language. I am Aelwen Brangane. You, I believe, are Mr. Harvey Suarley. Am I correct in this presumption?"

"Uh, yes, I'm Harvey. Nice to meet you, Miss..."

"Brangane. Aelwen Brangane. Pronounced _Ale-win Bran-gain_." said Aelwen, still smiling. Harvey wasn't sure how old she was; she looked fifteen, but spoke like a thirty year old woman. "It's Welsh. _I'm _Welsh, actually, but that is not important. And it is good that I have finally found you. They sent me to find you, but it has taken several months. But, now, here you are and so am I. Isn't this wonderful?"

"Sorry, do I know you?" asked Harvey, not meaning to be rude. She laughed, almost like bells. Her light skin seemed to practically glow in the hospital lights as her eyes twinkled at him. Harvey had never thought eyes _really _twinkled, like in books-but here was Aelwen, with her eyes actually twinkling.

"You do not know me, yet, Mr. Suarley. But you will, very soon. Mae gen i lawer o gyfrinachau i ddweud wrthych. Cyfrinachau tywyll." _I have many secrets to tell you. Dark secrets. _

"I don't think I understand. See, I'm just here for my wife. She's just had our daughter, Amethyst. I'm not really sure what's wrong now-they've not let me see her, and no one will explain anything. Unless you're a nurse, or can get me in _there_," he nodded at the delivery room doors sullenly. "I don't really see how you're going to do much help, Miss Brangane. Sorry, but I think you've found the wrong person. Maybe there's some other Harvey-it's a common enough name over here-and the Suarley part is probably just a misprint. I have to focus on my wife, please go."

"Amhosib!" _Impossible! _She cried, shaking her head. "I have come all the way from Wales-they have sent me pictures and so much information on you. You are married to Alice Strenner. You have a sister named Stacy, and three nieces and nephew. You're a paramedic at this very hospital and your best friend is a policeman named Joshua Becker. You are Harvey Suarley. The man I am looking for."

"How do you know that? How could you _possibly _know that? Hang on-have you been snooping in my personal information? I could have you arrested for that. I don't know about Wales, Miss Brangane, but it's certainly illegal to look through other people's private files without their permission."

"But I have _not _been snooping, Mr. Suarley. I've been looking for you, ever since your name popped up on some paperwork in Wales."

"Paperwork? In _Wales_? How's that then? I've never been to Wales." He shook his head confused. How on earth did Wales or this strange young girl have anything to do with him? He just wanted to see his wife, happy and healthy.

"No, but someone from Wales has been here. Nineteen years previous, went by the name of Enfys Gwawr. She was twenty years old in 1978, see. Just a child, really. But she met someone-"

"It certainly wasn't me! I was only four in '78."

"No, this doesn't quite involve you just yet. See, she met a man who went by the name of Peter Suarley. And, as most young girls do when they meet a strange, foreign man for the first time, she sort of got...out of her depth, as it were."

"Are you about to tell me that my father made a baby with this woman, and now here you are to claim your portion of his inheritance? His only daughter by his estranged lover?"

She laughed and shook her head. For some reason, this time, her laugh angered him, as if she were laughing _at _him, calling him foolish. "No, sir. I'm only sixteen. Though, yes, I _am _a daughter of Enfys, and _yes_, she did have intercourse with your father nineteen years ago."

"Then what does this have to do with _me_?"

"My sister. It involves my sister, Nerys. She's nineteen, she's my half-sister. Born to my mother in SimNation, with a SimNation birth certificate. She's _your _half-sister as well. Nerys."

Inside the delivery room, someone screamed out in pain and Harvey flinched almost instinctively. Was that Alice? Was she okay? He turned towards the door, worried. Little girls with secrets could wait. His wife was in possible danger and he needed to help. She couldn't die, not yet, not like this. She wasn't dying, she wasn't. He wasn't going to allow that.

"Mr. Suarley?" Aelwen asked, looking at him nervously. He'd frozen and had a strange look on his face, like he wasn't quite all there. She didn't want to get near him, just in case. She had seen the way her father was when angry or scared. Who knew how Harvey Suarley would act? "Mr. Suarley," she repeated. "are you okay? Is something wrong?"  
"My wife just had a baby," he mumbled through clenched teeth. "A baby girl named Amethyst. And now she's in there and something's wrong, and _they won't let me in!_" he yelled, picking up a chair and tossing it at the wall. It banged off of the dull white walls and fell harmlessly to the floor. Startled, Aelwen took another step away from him.

"Sir-"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that was out of control. I was being ridiculous. Please just understand, I'm very confused and scared right now. It might _not _be the best time to talk to me about half-sisters I've never met, seeing as my wife is in the hospital, screaming."

"Yes, sir." She turned to go into the waiting room. She knew where he lived, she had his address. She'd just stop by later, in a week or two, when this was all over. When he was calm and no one was in danger. "I'll see you later, Mr. Suarley." He didn't even nod at her, too busy focusing on the nurse coming out from the double doors. She sighed, leaving.

"Mr. Suarley?" asked the nurse. She had dark skin and large green eyes, with dark hair pulled back in a messy pony tail. Her scrubs, too, seemed rumpled, like she'd been involved in some sort of fight. She seemed tired and weary. Harvey didn't remember her from work, but he really didn't know too many of the regular inside nurses. He nodded, and she smiled brightly.

"She's fine, sir. She's alright, it's all good. Alice, she's perfectly okay. You've gt twins, sir. Doctor thinks they might be identical. Both girls."

_Another girl. Another daughter. _

"_...she sort of got...out of her depth, as it were" _Another daughter, unexpected. They hadn't expected a second daughter. No one had thought about the possibilities. That they could have twins; that his father could cheat on his mother, when their marriage had seemed so good.

"_...She's your half-sister as well. Nerys." _A sister. He had another sister. Another daughter. Oh, Watcher in the sky, when had things gotten so out of control. Another family he wasn't aware of.

"Sir?" asked the nurse, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He shuddered, pulling away from her grasp. Words were spinning in his head, memories that he'd forgotten. The nights his father just wouldn't come home, the way his mum never questioned it. Like she just couldn't fathom the idea of him cheating on her.

"I have another daughter," he mumbled. "I have another sister."

"Sorry?"

"What's your name, ma'am? What's your name? I work here, I ought to know your name. What is it?"

"Kirsty. I'm Kirsty."

"Kirsty. Hello, Kirsty. Nice to meet you. Tell me, Kirsty, what would you do if you found out you had twins and a half-sister all within an hour? How would you react?"

"I..I don't know, sir. It's never occurred to me."

"Yeah...me either..." he collapsed on the floor, sobbing. Kirsty stood there, puzzled, not sure what to do. There was a man at her feet sobbing and she was meant to be getting back in the ward to help. Kirsty didn't know what he meant by 'half-sister', but clearly something had happened to him. And this _was _a hospital.

"Let me get help, sir."

"Harvey. I'm Harvey." he mumbled, still on the floor, his eyes wide almost with shock. "I'm Harvey Suarley. I have a wife, and a sister, and two daughters. I work here-my name is Harvey."

"Yes, sir-Harvey. Yes, Harvey."

Inside the delivery ward, the sounds of a newborn baby girl drifted out into the hallway, where the two were, one on the floor and the other trying to help him. A newborn baby girl, with a sister-a twin sister.

Opal Suarley was here.

….

(_442, Skyborough Boulevard, 2000_)

A nineteen year old girl was not supposed to be a mother of three. She wouldn't be able to take care of herself, let alone three children under the age of three. And yet, here was Adelaide Hampstead, the mother of Tomas, Tulip, and Nester Hampstead. She got a lot of strange looks, a lot of suspicious glares. People asked if the children all had the same father, if she was married to him. If she could support them.

Because she was dark-skinned, they liked to create stereotypes about her. Stereotypes that she slept around, that she was a slut, a whore. It annoyed her husband, Nix. He always offered to start off on the people who called her names, or implied anything. He said he could get a paternity test right then and there, if it helped. Addy never got angry or frustrated. She merely calmly explained that _yes_, all three children were from her husband of a year and a half, Nix. And, _yes_, she could support them between Nix's job as a firefighter and her job at the spa. They were not rich, but they lived pretty decently in a nice house. She was, at last, happy and free from her family, who still wanted her to 'do something' with her life, like being a mother was wrong, like it was anything different from what Maggie did. The only thing different was she had no plans of ever finishing school. And, somehow, in this modern day, that seemed wrong to people.

Somehow, this all ended up with her here. She was here, on a Thursday evening, with no work later or even that weekend, a short personal break that she could afford. Alice and her husband were going on a weekend trip to Sunlit Tides, where she was having a tour. Alice's _first _tour as a famous pianist. Alice had come to _her_, Adelaide, the disgraceful one of the Strenner family, and asked her to take care of the girls. Alice _trusted _her. Unlike her mum or the rest of her family.

Looking at her nieces at three years old was like looking at Arthur and Amora, when they were that age. The two toddlers talk in a strange sort of eye-speak, communicating without a single word. It was almost sort of creepy to watch, but at the same time, so hypnotising. The two girls, completely identical, sitting in silence. They both had their mother's dark skin and their father's green eyes. The brown hair was from both parents. Even the doctor's had been startled that both girls weighed exactly the same. It was like looking at copies or clones.

In an effort to differentiate Amethyst and Opal, their parents had begun dressing Ama-as she was called-in green and Opal in yellow. But, even then, it was hard to tell them apart. It was almost _impossible_, except that Opal was slightly louder than her sister. She was more vocal, more likely to express her frustrations and problems. But, other than that, the two girls looked and acted the same. Exact clones. Eerie.

Addy was happy for Alice, who seemed to have finally found what she wanted to do, after years of merely drifting, the eldest girl in their family. With two girls, a nice family. Harvey had had a bit of shock three years ago, when the girls were first born, but that was put down to being a 'first time parent'. It was usually a startling thing. Nix, even, had wandered aimlessly around the hospital when Tomas was born. It had been alarming, when Harvey claimed he'd been approached about a supposed 'half-sister' of his, from Wales, but there had been no such girl anywhere in the hospital, and even Harvey later admitted that it might have been a dream brought on by stress.

She smiled to herself, glancing between the television and the four toddlers on the floor. Tomas, the eldest at four, as well as the only boy, seemed to be taking charge of the littler girls with ease. A natural born leader, he seemed to be. She watched them for a second, making sure it was giggles and smiles she saw-not tears or frowns. On the couch with her, her two month old son, Nester, slept quietly. All was very right. All was peaceful and nice.

That was, of course, when the doorbell rang. She glanced at it, glad that the house was built so that she could see the front door, but no one could see _her _in the sitting room. There was a young woman, probably around Addy's age. She had tanned skin, like someone of mixed genetics, and had the same sort of dark hair as Harvey. As Amethyst and Opal. In fact, if Addy hadn't already met Harvey's only sister, Stacy, she would have thought that was who she was looking at. Harvey's sister.

The doorbell rang again, but she remained on the couch, startled. Who was this woman? She wore a white dress, and seemed ready to wait patiently at the door until someone showed up. Tulip glanced to the door, just as Addy was looking, but the other children didn't seem to have noticed her. And the woman hadn't moved. Well, that was tough, because Addy _wasn't _letting her in.

_Brrring-brrrring! _went the doorbell again. She looked desperate now, like she was _really _sure this was the right house, but surely this stranger had nothing to do with them? She sighed, took one last look at the children playing with their blocks, and then, saying a quick prayer to the Watcher, she got to her feet.

"Excuse me," Addy began, just barely cracking the door open. From such a close distance, she looked even more like Harvey. She was tall and thin like him, with even the same green eyes. She _really _did look like Harvey and his father, Peter. It was quite alarming. "excuse me. We're not open to solicitors. Don't want anything your selling-no beauty products, no services. No religions, either," she added as an afterthought.

"Serv-ices?" the woman, who seemed only a year or so older than Addy herself, repeated in a broken accent, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I do not understand. I am here for Peter Suarley?"

"Peter Suarley? I'm afraid you've got the wrong house, then, ma'am. Peter Suarley's dead. Been dead since January."

"Dead?"

"Yeah, buried in his coffin, six feet under. Though, his wife might still be around, but she's not in town. She lives in Twinbrook." The woman frowned even more. "You know where Twinbrook is? Just outside of Bridgeport, and you'll have to have gone through Bridgeport to get here. Ask for a Larissa Suarley, or possibly Coping?"

"No, no. No Ms. Suarley. I need...I need talk with someone else. Not Ms. Suarley."

"You need talk..sorry, you need _to _talk to Harvey?"

"Harvey?"

"Mhmm. Peter Suarley's son. That might be where you got this address from. See, this is actually his house. Not Mr. Suarley's. You mixed up the addresses."

"He is son of Peter?" the woman looked stricken, her face going pale. Addy wanted to comfort her, but she didn't know this woman. She didn't really understand what she wanted with the Suarley family, or where she was even from.

"Yeah," she said hesitantly. "Yeah. Um, sorry, I didn't quite catch your name."

"I am Nerys Brangane. I am Peter Suarley's daughter."

….

(_Bridgeport, 2008_)

"Well, how exactly are we meant to explain that two bodies showed up in Sunset Valley-obviously murdered-set in the pond? Someone's going to ask questions, they'll find it eventually. We're not exactly hiring the smartest people, now are we?"

"I'm sorry sir...I thought we could trust her to make more intelligent decisions. My apologies. I'll have them run more thorough checks with people's backgrounds."

"Demote her," the first man snapped.

"Sir?"

"Just one level, mind you. Just enough so she gets the warning. She'll make it up soon enough, if she's smartened up, but I want to you demote her a level for being an idiot this time around. Our mission is very important and very fragile. If it's messed up because of some floozy from Sunset Valley, then I'll have the entire base down there off."

"Yes, sir." the second man turned to leave, but paused, looking back. "Sir?"

"What?" he asked, coldly staring down at his lackey.

"If it helps, sir...they think that the man's murdered the little girl. They don't suspect any of us, not yet. They think it was a homicide-suicide."

"At least that's bought us some time. But still, demote her all the same. She ought to have buried those bodies in the ground or in a mountain, not dumped them in a public pond."

"Yes, sir."

….

_**I feel this chapter is strangely...dull. Lacking, even with all that was going on. I dunno. Sorry it took so long. I write sporadically, when ideas come from me, and I just couldn't get anything out.**_

_**A quick shout-out to, well, Kristal and Colm, for letting me use their Sims/Sim houses. Second off to my wonderful 'boy-friend', Reed, for giving me over the laptop coffee. It was very wonderful watching you drink your morning coffee. Lastly, thank you to all the readers and reviewers-namely sunsetvalleylove and MeridiaParcumArcanity. Thank you for reading, favoriting, and following. It's all been great fun. (Not to say this story is ANYWHERE near done, I just wanted to thank you.) **_

_**Next time, it's Sunny, chapter 5! (I'm so excited!) **_


	9. Sunny: Been Called Crazy Before

_**Sorry for the break, but I started in on some Doctor Who/The Office/Sherlock, began Driver's Ed, began a speech class, and wrote three other stories. I kept meaning to come back here...I mean, I would get on LibreOffice and think to myself, 'oh, yeah. You need to write this.' but then I would find my Doctor fic and make this little face of excitement, then go write some more Doctor. **_

_**Don't worry, friends, I DO actually have a plot for this. Sort of...Heh. I don't own Officer Eugene Hunter, he is property of EA. All the ghosts belong to EA as well. **_

_**Ah! I need to stop watching old episodes of Doctor Who, because it makes me cry. And then I don't want to write, so I just sit in my room reading Doctor/River stories and then just die inside. **_

_**Also, doing research for my Sims stories is keeeeeeeling me. No, don't worry, I'm actually quite enjoying it. **_

_**On to Sunny, chapter 5! (Almost 10 chapters, guys! Whoohoo!) **_

…..

_(Sunset Valley, 1985_)

"Out after dark, showing suspicious behaviors, alarming citizens, _setting fire to public property_. I'm quite surprised, to be honest. Sunset Valley has always been very quiet, very _peaceful_. Until you now. Any particular reason why you 'went wild' last night, sir? Family problems, mental problems?"

The young man shook his head at Eugene, looking at him rather defiantly. He seemed tired, upset, but not like the usual sorts of people Eugene was forced to book. His clothes were tattered, but he showed no signs of any obvious burns. Didn't smell of gasoline or firewood. Probably from a middle-class family; Eugene wondered vaguely if he was related to Beau and Victoria Andrews, who were a nice couple who had lived in town for several years now. But the boy in front of Eugene didn't look much like Beau, nor did he really appear to be much of a threat. He was just a kid, probably twenty-five or so years old. Old enough, however, to be fully aware of the law. According to the handbook, at least. So, following policy, Eugene was supposed to be questioning this young man in a hot, stuffy little office that he usually shared with his partner.

It would be nice if he would at least cooperate. (But, then again, when do they _ever_? Especially when facing their own personal demise?)

"No problems, Officer. I didn't set fire to nothing, anyway. Not me; I don't got no matches. Trust me, I got patted down enough to tell you _that _much. I didn't set fire to nothing."

"Well, Mrs. Crumplebottom says she _distinctly _saw you in the graveyard with "fire dancing around him like a little hooligan". _Fire_, Mr. Andrews. And, believe me this, Mrs. Crumplebottom usually doesn't lie. Very dependable, her. Mr. Andrews, are you sure you were not drunk last night?"

"I don't drink, sir." he replied calmly, looking the officer directly in the eye. This was the first thing that threw Eugene off. Most times, when Eugene apprehended someone-which, in Sunset Valley, was rare enough in itself-they would shyly avoid eye contact and make up wild stories, all while looking over his shoulder or at his chin, but never his eyes directly. Sunny Andrews was something different, something new. And Eugene Hunter didn't like it.

"Not a drunk, eh?" he repeated, smirking in an effort to intimidate the young man. "Is that so? Then tell me, why were you found in the graveyard this morning, with the trees clearly having been burnt down during the night? I know Sunset Valley doesn't have any history of pyromaniacs."

"Is this because I'm not native? You being mean to me because I'm from out of town?" Mr. Andrews was now standing up, looking down at Eugene from his not so impressive height. "I oughtta complain to someone 'bout you being mean to me because I'm from Moonlight Falls."

"Mr. Andrews, please sit down, I'm not implying you've been hauled in because of where you're from." said Eugene, waving Julia-the secretary-away from the window. He could handle this; he _had _to handle this, or face a bad rep and the usual mocking laughter of his colleagues, who felt that the twenty-nine year old Eugene Hunter was going to amount to nothing.

Mr. Andrews huffed in disbelief, still glaring at Eugene, but compliantly collapsed back in his chair, looking rather forlornly down at the cuffs biting into his wrists. When Eugene looked away, he winked cheekily at the secretary, who giggled and ran off.

"You gonna let me go, then, Officer? If this has nothing to do with me, and I've _said _it doesn't, you oughtta let me go. That's what the law says, don't it?" He smirked at Eugene, his eyes wide with his own personal humor. Eugene could hears hints of intelligence under his 'gangster drawl'. Mr. Andrews was a mystery. They didn't even have a print on him, no I.D., no first name. And Mr. Andrews certainly wasn't saying anything helpful.

"No, Mr. Andrews, that is _not _how the law says things go. What it _does _say is that if you can give us a reasonable explanation as to how you could be found in the graveyard, which has been mysteriously torched, then I will gladly let you walk."

"So, what? I scratch your back, you scratch mine? Sound illegal, Mr. Officer."

"It's not, _Mr. Andrews. _It's a common thing we do here. You've got no records of previous crimes, not even petty stealing. And you're correct, I _can't _prove you set the graveyard on fire, but if you can explain what _did _happen-because, obviously, you were there last night, and probably saw the person who did it-I can let you go, easy as you please."

"Sell someone else out for my own good?" Mr. Andrews leaned in closer, his eyes glimmering brightly, as if this was all particularly amusing. He was still smirking, still looking directly at Eugene. Eugene Hunter couldn't help but shiver, looking back at this young man's face, realising something horrifying in that split moment. _Mr. Andrews knew something very, very dark. _

"O-of course it's n-not selling a-anyone out, sir. It's h-helping out the l-law. Doing w-what is r-right."

"Want to know something, sir?" Andrews whispered, beckoning at Eugene. Every lesson from school flew out of Eugene's head at that moment, too curious. He leaned closer, his ear just inches from Andrews' lips.

"What?" he breathed.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth."

….

(_The previous night, Pleasant Rest Graveyard_)

"You know, Basil, I'm still capable of feeling the cold," he said cheerfully, scooting closer to the dark orange ghost. "Can still feel all those temperatures that your old spirit never will. Maybe you could help me out a bit? Ghost to ghost seer?"

Basil rolled his eyes, but patted the grass below him with his foot. Everywhere he touched, small pockets of flame, easily controlled Basil swore, popped up.

_It would be easier if you just brought a coat or something, human. _said Basil jokingly. Over the past few years, Sunny had slowly built up relationships with the ghosts of Sunset Valley, tedious as it was. There were so many of them, most old and still stuck existing in the same old lifestyle they had before. At least Basil was newer, fresher. He had died in '82, but wouldn't tell anyone the exact reason why. According to Basil, even _he _wasn't really sure what had happened, only that he had spent quite a while there, and it had been rather cold.

Until he burned alive.

And he wasn't the only one who had died before their time. Annabelle Oinkslopes, Big Steve, Queenie Landgraab, Gaylord Koffi-all dead under strange circumstances, within five years of each other. One dead every year, drowned or starved or burnt up. The police weren't doing anything, didn't seem to notice the sudden increase in deaths.

"Accidents," it was explained away as in the newspapers by the chief of police. "Nothing but accidents. You get them all the time, see? Five deaths in five years? That's easy enough to explain. They were being foolish and weren't paying attention. Drowning, electrocution-all simply mistakes of uninformed Sims."

But Sunny knew something was wrong. _Five _deaths in five years? Sorry, but he had noticed that most people in Sunset Valley seemed to live pretty long, healthy lives. They weren't drowning to death, with only one pool in town. (The city council was constantly debating the efficiency of a second neighborhood pool, but had yet to really get around to it.) Annabelle Oinkslopes, just twenty-seven, found electrocuted in her flat by her boyfriend-how did they explain her death? She didn't even _own _any coffee makers or hair dryers.

What about Queenie Landgraab, the young wife of Chester Landgraab. What could Queenie have possibly done, when she stayed at home all day, raising her daughter, Nancy? Queenie, who had been found, burnt up in her car, which was wrapped around a telephone pole three miles from home. _Her _death was explained away as a trip to the grocery store, and yet, then eleven year old daughter Nancy had been left at home.

No, Sunny had decided, these deaths were not accidental. And, if he wasn't going to find anything out through the police or newspapers, then the victims themselves were the best place to go. See, when Sunny was ten, he had realised he had an unusual gift. Sunny could see ghosts; he could speak to them and play with them. Along side Gunther Goth, the ghosts of Moonlight Falls had become his best friends.

Even as an adult, at twenty-four years old, Sunny still felt more connected to the departed than he did for the living. Perhaps it was the knowledge that these Sims would most likely never leave this world-not until their deaths were resolved, or until they were ready to move on. But living Sims moved on all the time, moving and changing and aging. _Abandoning. _Gunther had abandoned him, as had his parents.

_You seem upset. Angry. _said Basil, settling on the dying grass next to Sunny. His orange, flickering form wavered in and out of view as he watched his young friend. Sunny _did _seem upset, his fingers clenching the yellow grass below him, his jaw clenched. He was watching Gertrude Flansburgh speaking to Erdrick Gnomeheim, their grey forms making almost cloud-like formations.

"I'm not upset." Sunny said shortly, not looking at Basil. "Why would I be upset? It's not like my brother is kicking me out of the house, or that I have _no _college education or qualifications to get by in life. No reason to get upset at all."

_You are being sarcastic, Sunny. Don't treat me like a child; I'm dead, not incompetent. And besides, if you want to go to college, why don't you? You're young, you're smart. What's stopping you, Sunny?_

"Money. Time. I dunno. College...it just doesn't seem like _my _sort of thing. I mean, I know it's what gets people a job, but maybe I don't want a job. Maybe I just want to stay here, with you guys, forever."

_We are leaving in the morning, remember? When the sun comes up, we must go to sleep, Sunny. You can not stay with us forever-not until it is your time._

Sunny sighed, popping his knuckles and laying down in the grass. "I know, I know. _I know_," he stressed, when Basil gave him a look of disbelief. "Don't worry about me, Flores, I don't intend on dying any time soon. It's just...you and the others...dead, and no one seems to care. Dead, and no one is even _investigating_. They found an excuse and now they've closed their eyes to any other explanation-even if it is the right one."

_But you are going to help us, aren't you? _Queenie asked, dropping into the grass with them, her equally orange form blinking like a candle flame. She was young and small, her frame thin and her face always pleasant. Sunny liked her, liked the way she was concerned for others first. _You said you were going to solve our deaths, no matter how long it took. That's what you said. _

"I know, Queen. And I am, believe me, I _am. _But, I can't seem to find evidence anywhere, like whoever killed all of you has cleaned it all up-every bit of it, gone. Your car, Annabelle's flat. It's all missing or completely empty. I don't know what to do or who to turn to."

_We could help, _Queenie said somewhat earnestly, looking intently at Sunny, her eyes bright with curiosity and excitement. _We could! During the night, we could go around town and investigate. Most people can't see us, right? And if they can't see us, then they won't mind speaking right in front of us! We'd be the perfect spies. Oh, please say you think it's a good idea! Please? _

It _was _a good idea. No one would ever notice invisible ghosts hanging around, especially since ghost seers were so rare. And if they had spies hanging around at night, listening in on conversations, the investigation could go so much faster. Except...

"What if there _is _a seer amongst this group, and they spot you? Recognise you as a victim? Besides that, Queenie, how are you supposed to know where to look?"

Tears sprung to her eyes, and she shook her head slowly. Queenie mumbled something to herself, along the lines of '_stupid, stupid. Didn't think about that_.'

"I'm not saying you're stupid, Queen. Trust me, you're not, not by a long shot. I'm only saying, maybe we should figure out where all these people _are_, before trying to spy on them. In fact, leave _that _part to me. I'll figure out the where's and when's, and you do the who's and why's. If I can figure out where these _awful _Sims are hanging out, I'll tell you and you can go spy at night."

_You're so smart, Sunny. _Queenie said, smiling. The three of them got to their feet, pleased with the plan. At last, something was going to happen. _Finally, _they would be avenged.

"Um, why are those trees on fire?" Sunny asked, pointing over at some trees along the edge of the graveyard, which are indeed flickering with lights. Queenie gasps and covers her face, embarrassed.

_I think that might have been us, actually. _Basil said, his face turning a darker orange. _Fire ghosts, summer, dry trees. We're walking matches. Sorry about that. _

"I'm going to get into so much trouble about this, aren't I?" Sunny said, his eyes raising to the slowly waking sun. Down the street, he could see a figure walking towards him. He couldn't quite make out who it was, but they probably weren't going to be happy. "I wish you guys could take the blame for some of this, instead of me. I'm tired of getting in trouble." He sighed, turning towards Basil, who merely shrugged.

_Sorry. Can't help who sees us, _he said, then slowly disappeared in the sunlight, along with the others, leaving Sunny alone, except for the sparking grass and trees. _Bye, Sunny. Good luck. _

"What?" Sunny muttered, looking around, somewhat dazed. "What does that mean?" He spotted Prudence Crumplebottom, who was _definitely _walking towards the graveyard and she _definitely _didn't look happy. "Uh, this is a mistake, ma'am! Sorry, um, this isn't what it looks like, I promise. I can tell you what happened-well, actually I _can't_, you'll think I'm crazy, but there _is _an explanation behind this that doesn't involve me. Please don't fetch the cops!"

"Excuse me! What _is _going on here?" demanded Prudence Crumplebottom, coming into the graveyard. She glared at Sunny, then glanced around. "What have you done, young man? _Harming public property_?!" she shrieked, looking alarmed. "How dare you! You...you _criminal_! I'm getting the police. No, I need to bring you in or you'll run away," she turned from Sunny, muttering to herself. Suddenly. Prudence looked out into the town and began shrieking, loudly. "_Arson! Fire! Someone, quickly, there's a fire in the graveyard! Quickly!_"

"Hey, this wasn't me!" Sunny tried to explain, but Prudence merely shook her head in disgust and continued to yell out for help.

….

"You're right," Eugene said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I _don't_ believe you, not at all. I mean, we've closed _that_ case-there is nothing left to do with it. Why, Mr. Andrews, do you think there are murderers-serial killers, from the way you describe them-in Sunset Valley? What makes you think that? Have you been threatened by anyone, been sent any strange messages?"  
"No, sir. Not at all. At least, not yet. None that I'm aware of, sir."Andrews was no longer smirking. His expression was very somber and serious now, and he seemed somewhat hesitant, yet so wanting to tell Eugene a dark secret.  
"Then why do you think anyone wishes you harm? Wished other innocent citizens harm? This is a peaceful town. There are no crimes-none so major as murder, anyway-in Sunset Valley." In his head, Eugene was wondering they _had _arrested a mental unstable young man. Schizophrenic or something like that. Delusional. "No crime at all, not here."  
"Until now," Andrews said somewhat cryptically. The smirk was back, though less sure than before as he crossed his arm, almost _daring _the officer to ask. Eugene decided to bite, more curious about this strange potential case in front of him. Being baited was the least of his problems.  
"Why do you say _that_, Mr. Andrews?"  
"Because it's true. Because it's true! Look at the newspapers from just a few years ago. People _dying _and there is no explanation why. No _rational _explanation. Oh, sure, you lot have tried to clear it all away with cries of suicide or accidents, but _trust me _on this. These deaths aren't _accidents_,they're intentional. We're all in danger."

"Of what, Mr. Andrews? What could possibly want to hurt us?"

"I don't know yet, sir! That's why I need your help...your support! So I can figure out who killed these poor, innocent people." Eugene was the one smirking now, eyes brimming with contempt. Andrews scowled, then suddenly got to his feet, banging the table loudly with a clenched fist. "Queenie Landgraab-dead in her own car!"  
"An accident-" Andrews shook his head, eyes wide as he went red in the face. He looked angry, and Eugene wondered if now was the best time to call in backup. But, then again, he _was _interested. _Was _it possible that these deaths were not as innocent as they had originally seemed?

"Annabelle Oinkslopes, electrocuted when she didn't have a single thing in her house running on electricity-not even a car battery! Absolutely nothing that ran off electricity. No phone, no stove, nothing."  
"Well, I'll admit, that _was_ a bit strange, but-"  
"And those two aren't the only ones I've noticed. There are others, others who are dead or in danger. I just don't know _why. _But the facts are all there, Mr. Hunter, believe me. You, and everyone else just choose not to listen or even look. But I do. I pay attention, especially when my friends are at risk. Please listen to me."  
"Who? What are you talking about, Mr. Andrews? I don't understand. H-how do you know my name? Mr. Andrews, who is danger? What's going on? Please explain!"  
:I've told you, Mr. Officer, you'd never believe me if I told you the whole truth. You'd lock me up in the nuthouse as a lunatic. You'd never believe me. I've been called crazy before, it wouldn't really be _that _much of a shock if you think I am, too." he shook his head.  
"Well, maybe you are!" Eugene replied, going red in the face with anger. "I know _nothing _about you, Mr. Andrews. Not your first name, or where you live. As far as I know, you are mentally deranged." He sat back in his chair, arms crossed. His face showed nothing but confusion and frustration as he looked across the desk towards this stranger. This _annoying _and potentially _dangerous _stranger.

….

"Well?"

"He's suspicious."

"Is that all? Only suspicious?" The other man nodded. "Good, very good. Let's keep it that way. How old is he, twenty-five?"

"Uh, twenty-four, sir."

"Twenty-four, hm." the first voice said thoughtfully. "Interesting. And his father...yes, let's keep him alive for now. Alive, but _interested. _I'd like to see how far he gets."

"And if he figures it all out, sir?"

"Isn't it obvious? Kill him like the others. Dump him somewhere. We don't want the police on our tails, now do we?" the first man smiled, revealing sharpened teeth. "Now, leave me. I have rocks to inspect."

"Yes, sir."

….

_**This is so odd, because most of my stories are only about 2500 words long, so the story never seems that long. But here, the shortest chapter is-let me check- the first chapter at 3300 hundred words. The longest, to date, is chapter 7 with 4427 words. Understand this is almost unheard of for me. I feel so excited! **_

_**Another interesting thing is, when I usually finish a chapter (for any story) I often take a break of anywhere between an hour and several weeks before I begin on the next one. With this story, it's usually only about twenty minutes before I'm dragged back into this story. I just...I dunno, I just really like it. **_

_**Ok, ok. One last note to Turtle & Kristal (hug) because I managed to talk Kris into joining ! Whoohoo! And they both reviewed my entire story thus far, so yay! Also, thanks to the ever conflicting notsojollysanta. Keep going. **_

_**(Also, I've started working on another Sim story already, which is TOP SECRET.) **_

_**Next time, Opal, chapter 5! **_


	10. Opal: The Accident That Ended It All

_**Um, queasy readers might want to skim through this bit, as there are mentions of violent and somewhat graphic events. I've been studying up for this, mostly by playing Sims 3. I decided to actually CREATE the Suarley family I my game and fiddle around with them in the hopes of inspiration. We'll see how it goes. **_

_**(A fun song to listen to: Portrait of a Clown by Frank Tichelli. It's instrumental, no lyrics. It kind of applies to the story.) **_

_**And now, what you've all been waiting for since the last update: **_

_**Opal, chapter 5! Enjoy. **_

….

(_June, 2001, Bunches of Fun Daycare_)

Sunset Valley, ah, what a peaceful place. Children grow up in blissful innocence and entire generations are protected from the fear of the outside world. Business flourished because there was nearly no competition in town for resources. Many families had moved here over the years, believing they would be doing their family the best. After all, nothing bad ever happened in Sunset Valley. There had only been three cases of arson-all by the same person-and only one convicted murderer. It was almost a joke, the concept of anything going wrong in such a peaceful place. Brochures bragged about the peaceful rest and relaxation the small town could offer, because it was true. There _was _absolutely nothing to fear, and nothing to worry about.

Certainly, any long time residences could tell you that. Sunset Valley was the place of dreams, the place where people went to live out their lives in blissful calm. That was what had attracted Martha and Herman Bunch almost forty years ago, when they had moved in as a young, newly-wed couple. Years later, Martha still lived in town, though Herman was long gone, buried in China for reasons Martha still didn't really understand. Left her all alone on a business trip with a fifteen year old boy and no way of making an income. They had lived off Herman's live insurance and Jack's meager job at the grocery shop. But bills soon had caught up with them, and Jack had fallen into the wrong crowd, become interested in the wrong things. He used to dream of being a politician or a businessman, but that required a high school and even a college education. Jack, instead, had been spotted by scouts for the local sports team, the Llamas. All his dreams, wasted on a football.

Martha Bunch was sixty-nine years old. She had one son-her only child, a thirty-six year old man named Jackson Bunch, who went by Jack. Jack had moved half way across town nearly fifteen years ago, and now lived with his wife, Judy and their four kids. Martha loved her grandchildren-consisting of eight year old Ethan, seven year old Lisa, three year old Arlo, and the baby, Darlene-but she so rarely found the time in her schedule to visit Jack's house. If she had ever really felt welcome inside Jack's home, maybe she would have come over more, but Judy's contemptuous, modern views on raising children made Martha feel somewhat obsolete, like her family had forgotten her. Like, if she died any time soon-Watcher forbid-Jack and the grandchildren would just keep on puttering through life as they had before.

Most of Martha's old friends had long ago retired from their boring jobs in the hopes that maybe they'd live a little longer. Less of a pay, yes, but also less stress and less chance of being replaced by a pretty twenty-something. But not Martha. Martha Bunch ran the only day care in Sunset Valley, and children were her only love in life. Infants, toddlers, children-all were welcome in the Bunches of Fun Daycare at any time.

Except for Jack's children. The problem began when Lisa was about two years old, when Jack had decided to let _Judy _raise the children, with the excuse of that he wanted the children to see their mother. That was practically a slap in the face to the woman who made it her _job _to raise children. Judy worked-Judy was a Lab Technician! She would be too busy working to take care of her children. But when Jack wanted something, he usually got his way, regardless of how it affected anyone else. And, so, the Bunch children-her own grandchildren!-were never enrolled in the Bunches of Fun Daycare. Martha had never forgiven Jack for that, the biggest disgrace and dishonour her son had ever thrown at her.

But, now, in 2001, Martha was _still _the only daycare runner in town, so when Alice and Harvey Suarley needed a place to keep their young daughters during the day, they turned to one of Maggie Strenner's old friends in hopes that Martha Bunch could raise their two girls as the young parents struggled to succeed in their fields. In their _dreams_. Martha adored the two little girls, with their plump baby faces and happy smiles. _Here _were two children who would never grow to shame their parents. They were too sweet, too willing to please others.

The Suarley twins-two and a half year olds Amethyst and Opal-were amongst the most loved children at the child center. Often, the older kids would beg for the chance to play with the identical little girls, so fascinated by them. They acted, and reacted, exactly the same to every situation. It was like watching two copies, or a mirror. Sims loved them, especially since they were both so playful and happy all the time. Often, Alice would be stopped in places like the store to be told how sweet her children were, and how happy they would grow up to be. How successful. Martha enjoyed bragging that she took care of the first pair of identical twins in over seventy years.

At the time that this story takes place, the eldest child at the daycare was thirteen year old Blair Wainwright. She was just a month short of reaching the daycare age limit-fourteen-and was slowly preparing herself for the departure. Blair was, as of yet, interested in very little other than her friends at school and, so, had no idea what high school would be like. In preparation for teen hood, Martha had decided to 'hire' Blair to do small jobs for the child center, in the hopes that it would teach her values and worth ethics. Amongst her jobs was being a smaller Martha to the younger children, preparing food, and taking calls. Like right now, the phone buzzing in its little holder.

"Hello," she said, fiddling with her hair. Next to her was a notepad and pen, waiting for information that would be given to Martha later. Along the border of the paper, Blair had been drawing pictures of a local boy from town, Clyde, who insisted on going by Cycl0n3. Blair had a slight crush on the sixteen year old, but didn't want anyone to know.

"Hello, is this Martha Bunch?" asked the voice on the other end of the phone. Whoever was talking sounded shaking and nervous. Close to tears.

"Um, no." Blair inspected her nails as she talked, wondering if Cycl0n3 was into blondes. Specifically _her._"This is Blair, her receptionist. Can I take your message, please?"

"Yeah...yeah..." said the other person, sighing deeply. Blair could vaguely hear voices in the background and someone moaning. She frowned, wondering what was going on. Was someone hurt?Had something happened to Martha's family?

"You okay?" she asked, suddenly very focused on the voice on the phone. Maybe he or she knew some juicy gossip that she could bring into school tomorrow to impress her friends with. "You sound upset. Is something wrong?"

"Just...just tell Martha Bunch that we need the Suarley's house and cell phone number. Alice and Harvey Suarley. Unless...would you happen to have their records, as the receptionist?"

Blair went into 'receptionist' mode, growing very serious. "Sorry, I can't give out personal records over the phone without consent of the Suarley family, unless it is an absolute emergency. _Is _it an emergency?" And what did it have to do with the Suarleys? Blair turned towards the backroom, where she could just make out their tanned skin and dark hair as the two girls played. Nothing was wrong with _them_, and the parent's phone number wouldn't be needed if the _parents _were the ones injured. None of this made any sense.

"It is. Please, just trust me." he or she sounded desperate, and whoever was in the background suddenly let out a loud and rather painful sounding groan, like they were dying. Blair shivered, and nodded, despite the fact that the other person couldn't see her.

"Excuse me for a moment while I go get Mrs. Bunch. She'll tell you their information." Blair tried to get up, but her legs were so shaky legs, her head spinning. Blair collapsed back in her seat, rubbing at her eyes, like a little child. She could hear that awful voice in the background, moaning and begging for help. She wanted to throw up, but right now, getting Martha was more important than her disgust and fears.

Eventually, Blair managed to collect herself enough to stand up, her legs shaking still, as well as her hands. She balled them into fists, willing herself to move. The Sim on the phone sounded so scared that it almost made _her _afraid. What could possibly put such fear in an adult?

Blair walked through the daycare, dodging little kids who asked for stories, or for her to play hopscotch outside with them. Blair muttered excuses of having to run errands, that she would play later. Watching the little ones made her even more queasy. What if something ever happened to _them_? She had to find Martha, had to focus-it seemed like someone's life might even depend on it!

Martha was in the bathroom with one of the townie family toddlers, encouraging the little boy to potty like a big boy. She was so focused, Martha didn't even hear the bathroom door open, or see Blair slip in. The teenager felt nervous-she had never been inside the boy's toilets before. Blair half expected someone to force her out, even if she _was _on an important job to fetch Martha.

"Martha?" she called softly, hoping Martha wasn't too busy or too cross. The Sim on the phone didn't sound like he could wait too long. "Martha, someone is on the phone."

"What?" Martha asked, looking up from the toddler. She was sweating and looked exhausted, but Blair had seen many days where Martha survived off little more than an hour's sleep and lots of coffee. "Sorry, Blair, what do you want?"

"Someone's on the phone. It sounds important and they really want you. They want the Suarley's phone number."

"Phone number?" Martha repeated blankly. "_Phone number_?"

"That's what they said." Blair said, shrugging. Martha blinked a couple times before getting to her feet, nodding absent-mindedly to herself.

"Take care of Jim for me, will you? Just...finish up for me?" Martha asked, and Blair nodded, even though she _hated _potty duty. Martha sounded so stressed, she didn't want to make anything harder than necessary.

….

"Hello?" Martha asked, holding the phone up to her ear. Blair had sounded nervous, like she was afraid of whoever was on the phone. What could they want with the Suarley's number?

"Is this Martha Bunch?" the voice was shaky and almost terrified. "Please, I need help. Please help me."

"Yes, yes. I'm here. What do you want?"

"There's been...an accident. Someone's been hurt and I need help. I need you to get the Suarleys."

"Have you phoned the hospital?" she asked, twisting her old wedding ring around and around on her finger, a clear sign that she was anxious and frustrated.

"Yes, but I don't think he's going to make it. He's bleeding from the head, I don't think he'll live." The other Sim on the phone took a deep breath and Martha could hear shaky tears on the other line. "I didn't mean to hit him, miss. I swear, I didn't mean to hit him. It was an accident, I didn't see him."

"What's happened? Please tell me what has happened, so I can call the Suarleys and tell them."

"Arthur Strenner...I hit him. The only phone number he had in the car was for someone named Alice Suarley. I'm sorry, I hit him. I'm sorry. Oh Watcher, he's a kid, I killed a kid." The Sim began sobbing openly, breaking down entirely. "I killed a kid...please, please...Oh my Watcher...I killed a kid...Please...I hit Arthur Strenner...I hit him...I'm sorry, I'm sorry...please forgive me."

"Calm down, okay? I'm going to call the Suarleys. You calm down and wait for the ambulance to come. Keep him safe and just hold out, okay?"

"Oh Watcher...oh Watcher...I just killed a kid..."

….

_(2001, Bunches of Fun Daycare, Newborn to 3 yrs. Room_)

Opal sighed, placing another block on the tower she was building with Amy, her twin sister. In the front room, she could hear people talking loudly about a 'car crash', but to the three year old, the words did not quite connect. She knew 'car' meant the big metal thing that took her from home to Martha or the ice cream parlor, but the word 'crash' was new.

"What you fink they talk 'bout?" she asked Amy, half in the proper English Mumma had taught them, half in the special, childish babble that all toddlers spoke in before they learned how to talk properly. Amy was Opal's copy, but neither girl seemed to understand that, either. They just knew that their hair was the same and their skin was the same tanned colour.

"Talk 'bout?" Amy repeated, scrunching up her nose. "They talk 'bout a 'caw cwash', whateva that is. Daddy hewe, maybe we gettin' sweets."

"Maybe," said Opal thoughtfully, picking up another block. She stared at the tower, wondering where a green cylinder would fit. Maybe in the front. "Do you fink it's somethin' _we _did?"

"We babies, Opal. What _we _do? Mawtha and Mumma and Daddy don't let us do stuff_. _It not be stuff _we _did. I think it Daddy coming to get us for sweeties."

"But 'caw cwash'-"

"It kay, Opal, build on the tower." Amy said, frowning in annoyance. Out of the two of them, Opal was slightly more curious, slightly more willing to get into things she oughtn't Mumma and Daddy called Opal their 'little daredevil'.

"I'm gonna go look." said Opal in a determined voice, getting to shaky feet. Amy rolled her eyes, muttering about how they were going to get in trouble, but abandoned her blocks as well. The two toddlers moved on wobbly legs towards the door, watching as Daddy spoke on his little talking box to someone else. He seemed to be crying, which frightened the young girls. They had never seen Daddy cry before. To the side, Martha was shaking her head, as Blair ushered some older kids outside for playtime. Mumma seemed to be missing.

"I just don't understand," said Daddy, stumbling over his words. "I don't understand. Is he alive or not?" He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "No. _No_. There has to be something you lot can do. _Something_. He's eighteen, dammit. Can't you do something?"

"Har-"

Daddy waved Martha off in annoyance. "There's no surgery, no organs that he can use? Surely there's _something _that can be done! He's my _nephew_, for Watcher's sake! How am I supposed to tell my wife her brother is...dead..." His voice cracked and he dropped the talking box, sinking to his knees in tears.

"Daddy!" Opal cried, running towards him. Daddy looked up at the two girls, his cheeks wet. He shook his head, but opened his arms for a hug. "Daddy, what wwong? What happen?" she asked, patting him on the nose. Amy hugged Daddy's knee, silently begging him to stop crying. Daddy's weren't supposed to cry, why was Daddy?

….

(_Disclosed Location, 1979, Somewhere in Wales_)

Four years. Thank Watcher above, he had made it four whole years without anyone finding him. As far as Kane could tell, the OCC had completely forgotten his existence. Twenty-eight years in a boring little town, his participation in any schemes apparently wiped out of their minds, because it had been four years and no one was coming. He was _safe. _

This was the mistake Kane made. He let his guard down, assumed because no one had shown up, no one would. But the OCC was patient; they could wait out anyone. And, when given the chance, they would flush out a rat as easily as throwing away garbage. To them, Kane _was _garbage. Scum, just a little than how most people viewed thieves anyway. Despised, even by those who had once been his work colleagues.

They had hired her, Aderyn Heulwen, to take care of Kane. Dispose of him, but be discreet. Aderyn could do discreet. She didn't much _care _for it, but she could, just this once, calm herself enough to dispose of Kane.

_Kane_, she thought to herself, shaking her head. _What a foolish Sim. What a foolish mortal. He will be __so...good, when I get to him. So...sweet. _

When was the last time she had properly fed? Really and properly hunted, instead of snatching blood from hospitals or from patients. Plasma fruit was good, but nothing tasted so delicious as fresh, still flowing, still pumping blood. She couldn't wait to feel it running between her fingers, lapping it up like a dog, wild with hunger.

His apartment was tiny, the shades pulled down. No obvious signs of life detectable to the common eye. Heulwen, though, could see what others could not. Inside, the movement of a large man, tall in stature. That might be a problem, taking him down quietly. A quick search of the flats left and right revealed they were both conveniently empty. Good, good. She smiled to herself, then, under the cover of her hat, she slunk across the street.

A simple knock on the door, and he came to open it. Good, he was naïve. Kane _was _a big man, wide shouldered and bald. But she could see signs of decent intelligence behind his eyes. Of course he was smart, he had managed to sneak valuable stones past the OCC, at least until now.

"Can I help you?" he asked gruffly. She didn't answer, only pushed past him inside. Kane stared after her, startled by this tiny girl. That simple push had shown him just a fraction of her strength. A mere bit of the power she held.

"Hey, you can't just barge in here. This is _my _house." he demanded, grabbing her shoulder. She smirked, then pointed at the door, which snapped shut all by itself. He shivered, moving away from this little figure. What in the hell was she? Her pale skin and gleaming eyes suggested something probably _not _Simian.

"Hello, Kane. We've been looking for you," she purred, still smirking. Heulwen was over two hundred and seventy-three years old, yet looked just twelve. And yet, despite her tiny stature, here was this huge man, standing in awe and fear of her. The wonders of being a creature of the night. For that was what Heulwen was-a vampire.

"W-what do you want?" he asked, backing up even more. His shoulders hit the wall; there was nowhere else to go, nothing to do. This little kid kept staring at him and he wanted to scream, wanted to call for help. But he knew-she knew as well, obviously-that there was no one else around. Kane realised in that moment that he was about to die. The OCC had finally found him and this was the end.

"Please...make it quick. Please, have some decency." he begged, but found no mercy in those old eyes. Heulwen smirked up at him, revealing two sharp teeth, like knives. She hissed, and her eyes grew bright, golden.

"Did you _really _think we wouldn't find you?" she said, moving towards him. He shivered and whimpered, wishing that the Watcher would just strike him down now. _Please, please. I don't want to die like this-not like this! _"Did you _really _think the OCC didn't know where you were? We were following you the entire time. You never really lived in the safety you felt that you did, Kane."

"Why now?"

"Because I know you've not spent any money made off those stones. We waited, we wanted to know what you would do with them. Four years," she cocked her head to the side, as if studying him. Like a lion, studying its prey. He quaked even harder. "four years, and you never _once _tried to sell a single stone for money. Why is that?"

"I was w-waiting. I wanted t-to make s-sure it was s-safe. Safe t-to come o-out into the public. Safe from t-the OCC." He choked on the name.

"How interesting. But, Kane, did you really think that you would _ever _be safe?" She was right in front of him now, sitting down and bending up to look directly into his eyes. His executioner. She sighed deeply, shutting her eyes. Then, almost as if in a trance, Heulwen leaned upwards and bit his neck, almost like the beginnings of a kiss. He remained frozen in place, feeling her cold lips on his skin. Heulwen could feel the blood coursing through him and she loved it. _Needed _it.

She bit him again, tearing at flesh. Blood, three drops, fell out, but it wasn't enough. She needed more. She needed _all _of it. He gave one last whimper, then Heulwen-who was now nothing more than an animal, acting instinctively-ripped into his flesh, tearing at his skin. _Devouring _him. They were both screaming, animalistic screams. She laughed and drank his blood, refusing to let even a single drop touch the floor.

It took thirty-four minutes, before she sat up, wiping her mouth. She sighed contently and smiled to herself. He was dead, nothing more than an empty husk of a Sim on the ground. Later that night, someone was meant to come collect the body. She grinned again, getting to her feet. Heulwen flitted out the door, as quiet as she had been coming in. Invisible and unnoticed. A creature of the night and a murderer.

His blood tasted _so _good.

….

_**I hope you liked it. You can show your enjoyment by reviewing, favoriting, and following me at any point. Remember, I am always in tune to your feedback. (Especially this chapter. It was...difficult to write, in light of recent, personal events.) **_

_**(Speaking of Blair, I'm actually writing a story about her and Cycl0n3 Sw0rd right now...but it probably won't be posted for a while-maybe not until this story is done, so that I don't get too distracted writing two stories at once...been there, done that.)**_

_**Next time, Sunny, chapter 6!**_


	11. Sunny: You've Got To Hide Your Love Away

_**Last time you saw me, I was without a permit, and I still am. However, on Tuesday, I shall be acquiring one and you should all be very afraid, for I shall drive wildly and recklessly. Ahahahahaha! Beware me on the road, lest you crash. Joking, I'm actually a really hesitant driver...**_

_**The title of this chapter is based off the Beatles song 'Hide your Love Away', which is one of my favorite songs by them. I felt it applies here. **_

_**Are we all appropriately depressed from the last chapter? Yes? Missing Arthur, who I shall not yet officially write off as dead or alive, because I'm actually not sure whether or not he is? **_

_**Since we're not really sure what the uni names will be for Sims 3, I am using the old ones from Sims 2. EA owns them, not me. They also own Smugworth's. **_

_**Ignoring that...Now, time for Sunny, chapter 6! Please, entertain yourself! **_

….

(_Central Park, Sunset Valley, 1988_)

"_Sunset Times: Bringing You the News of the Day_

_Mysterious Deaths: Murders or Mystic Hoax?_

_As all loyal readers to the Sunset Times most likely know, in 1981, when the young Queenie Landgraab, age 31, was found just outside of town, burnt up inside the remains of her crashed car. The young mother and wife was buried in the public graveyard and not much else was thought of when it came to her sudden, gruesome death. _

_But what if there was more to the story? What if Mrs. Landgraab _didn't _die from driving into the side of the road one sleepy night, but was instead driving with faulty breaks? _Intentionally _faulty breaks. That's what one anonymous tipper seemed to be saying when, in 1985, Officer Eugene Hunter informed his superiors that he was alerted to suspicious details of Mrs. Landgraab's death. _

_Last night, Officer Eugene Hunter proclaimed the case on Queenie Landgraab and four others nothing more a false lead. Officer Hunter reports that he _had _been anonymously tipped by an outside source that the supposed suicide/accidental deaths of the five deaths, which began in 1980, with Big Steve Underwood. _

"_I was told that there was a possibility that, should I look further into these cases, that I would find that there is more than originally reported. I filed the tip away and decided to act upon it as soon as was convenient, considering the high profile death of Queenie Landgraab back in '81. Well, the guy or gal that tipped me off must have been wrong, because I didn't find anything more or less than what was stated in the report. I mean, and I repeat myself for emphasis and clarity, that none of these suicides and accidental deaths appear to have any connection to a possible murderer or serial killer. There is nothing to link them all, and each were killed in, while tragic, completely innocent situations. There was no obvious outside force."_

_So, was this mysterious tipper just a lot of hot wind, or is it possible that they knew more than they were talking about, and the police are just wrong and narrow-minded, as we all secretly feared?  
"No," says Hunter. "Absolutely no chance at all. We've had many good men and women and enough funding these past three years, but there is absolutely no proof. I'm sorry, but the case is closed."_

_Investigators are worried that the mysterious tipper might be..."_

Sunny sighed, folding and pocketing the newspaper. Hunter had completely ruined any shot Sunny had of sneaking around town without being noticed. Sure, he hadn't out right pointed a convicting finger at Sunny for being the 'mysterious source', but now the murderer, or murderers, would be on the look out for anyone who would be searching for them. He wouldn't be able to find anything out at this rate, not on his own.

Just then, two little kids, a boy and a girl, ran past Sunny, chasing after a ball. He watched them, wondering if, one day, he would come back to this park with his own children. Sunny wasn't really interested in living people-male or female. It was the dead that interested him, and the dead couldn't mate, especially not with the living. Sunny's brother, Jakeb, had three kids, and Beau was considering adopting a child from Africa, but they were both married-happily so. Sunny hadn't spoken to a girl since he was in elementary school.

"Excuse me, sir," said a girl, probably thirteen or so. She had the same tanned skin as the little kids, and the same dark hair. Sunny assumed this was probably their older sister or something. "Excuse me." she repeated, looking straight at him. "I need your help for something, sir. Would you mind helping me with something?"

"Mhmm?" he replied nonchalantly, not really interested in the affairs of children. Sunny was twenty-seven and had long since left childhood behind him. "I'm not going to buy any of your little cookies, sweetheart. Move along."

"I'm not here about _cookies_," she said, crossing her arms. "I just wanted to know if you'd seen a little boy and girl around anywhere. Only, they're my siblings and Mum says _I've _got to take care of them, even though I distinctly told her I didn't _want _to."

"Look sort of like you?" She nodded, and he pointed over towards the swing set, where the two children were kicking their green rubber ball around, laughing and playing innocently. They looked happy and peaceful, like there were no problems in their life. Like children, because children were innocent and didn't understand that the world was only filled with pain. "Over there, safe as can be. They look happy. Hope you have a nice day. "

"Thanks, Mr..." she trailed off, head cocked, looking at him expectantly. He nodded at her, and waited for her to leave, but she didn't move. Maybe she wanted the bench? He shrugged, getting to his feet, but she only moved to block him. Then, realising she wasn't going to leave until he gave her an answer, he sighed. "Andrews. I'm Sunny Andrews." he said, shrugging again. _Stupid kids wasting his time. _

"Well, then, thank you, Mr. Andrews. I'm Alice Strenner, in case you ever need anything from me. I live over there," she pointed down the street. "My mum is Maggie and my dad is Alfred." She smiled at him in that small town innocence sort of way. Of course she would trust a complete stranger enough to tell him where she lived. There was _absolutely no crime in Sunset Valley. _Sometimes, Sunny wondered how no one in town had just decided to torch the entire place, yet. He certainly found it rather hard to resist.

Sunny smiled at her, then walked off, out of the park, back towards his home. Sunny had been living with his older brother, Beau, and Beau's wife Victoria for almost eight years now. He was, to be honest, quite surprised they hadn't kicked him out yet. He was an adult and could certainly get a job and a house for himself. But, Victoria explained, that was simply just not how family treated each other, and Sunny was-like it or not-family.

Speaking of Victoria, she was at the sink when he walked in, cleaning up the dishes from that day's lunch. Victoria-for she refused to be called 'Vicky' or 'Tory'. It was _always _Victoria-did not work, instead choosing to stay home and look after sloppy old Beau. Thankfully, Sunny had always been kind of neat. Ever since his little room in the garage had been set up, Victoria had never once had to go in there to clean; Sunny did it all himself.

Years ago, Sunny had been popular at school. Lots of friends, plenty of followers desperate for a bit of his acknowledgment, which Sunny was always happy to dole out. But, then, when he was ten, Sunny began to realise that his parents didn't care if he was popular, or athletic, or had good grades. So he stopped bothering. Sunny became intentionally aggravated towards teachers and other students. He got into fights, quit the baseball and football team. His grades plummeted drastically and he was in the headmaster's office at least once a week. And, yet, his parents didn't notice, too wrapped up in their desires for a young girl.

Sunny still felt slight twinges of guilt, recalling the now sixteen year old Miracle, who still lived with her parents, back in Moonlight Falls. He knew that Mom and Dad probably pushed all their long-lived dreams onto her, eager to see her succeed as a politician or a businesswoman. To get married and give them more grandchildren, because they so rarely saw Jakeb, who lived in France.

Sunny and Miracle still corresponded, sending letters back and forth. When letters could not quite reveal news fast enough, Sunny would walk down to the grocery shop and use the pay phone outside. Sunny had recently gotten a letter from his little sister just a week ago that had revealed something very shocking. Something that would completely shake their parents completely- especially with their old-fashioned twentieth century ideals and views.

_Dear Sunny,_

_The day creeps ever slowly, the day until my freedom. I have not yet informed Mom and Dad, but I do intend upon attending Sim State. I know it is not what they exactly wanted for me-Mom has always wanted to enroll me in Smugworth's Prep as a child, but I did turn down the application. _

_I know how hard it is to live up to Mom and Dad's expectations, especially since there are so many of them. It is their expectations and your failure to live up to them that drove you-and Jakeb and Beau-away from our home. What led you three on the path you walk. I wonder...will they accept me for who I am, should they ever find out the truth?_

_I am hinting at the truth, dancing around it, but I fear telling you. At least, I did. But now, I feel that you deserve to know, Sunny. I met a girl at the local consignment store the other day. Her name is Stephanie. For some reason...Sunny, for some reason I felt something for her. A...passion, a lust that I have never felt for any boy before, despite my best efforts. _

_Stephanie and I are dating in secret now. We have gone out every night, but I don't want Mom and Dad to know. Please, Sunny, don't tell them. They would be so ashamed and would turn me out of their home. I know I ought to not be ashamed of what I am, but in our day in age, same sex couples are not necessarily all that common-nor are they very accepted in most social communities. _

_Please understand, Sunny, that I feel that we are in love, just as Jakeb and Anna are, or Beau and Victoria. What I feel is real love, not just the experimental lust of a teenage girl. Please do not turn me away or reject me. It would break my heart so much. You are the first I have ever told. I need you to stand by my side. _

_Lots of love,_

_Miracle "Mira"_

He had sat in his bedroom for hours afterwords, thinking about how to respond. How do you react to finding out your sister was gay? That she was in love with another woman. Mom and Dad would never go for that, they would never be able to accept the truth about their only daughter. Could Sunny? Eventually, he decided that the best thing to do would be respond as soon as possible, so she didn't worry.

_Mira, _

_I understand what you are saying, about your love for Stephanie. I hope you two live long and happy lives together. I know it will be hard for you in our world, considering how most people feel, but I hope that, should you tell Mom and Dad, they will be able to understand and accept you for who you are. I certainly do. How could I not? You are my sister, my only sister. I used to hate you, I used to be jealous of you, but no more. I realise, Mira, that you suffer even more for being Mom and Dad's daughter, and I pity you. I wish you and Stephanie the best of luck in your endeavors, and that you do not ever have to suffer for how you live, not ever again. No one should be punished for who they are, or who they like. It is just not right, you don't deserve to be hated for being gay. I love you, regardless of who or what you are. I love you, Mira, know that. I love you and I will always love you. _

_Your favorite brother,_

_Sunny _

Perhaps, if Sunny understood love himself, he would be able to help her, but Sunny didn't know a thing about love. He had never felt attracted to anyone. Well, there was _someone_, a girl, but it would never work out. Annabelle, sweet Annabelle Oinkslopes. She was dead, stuck permanently at the age of twenty-seven. Her short dark bob and the glasses made her look like a young, innocent little girl. He had a crush on her, but how did one admit their feelings to a bright yellow light? No one else in town could see her, he could never legally marry her.

"Hey, Sunny," said Victoria, sticking her head into the living room where he was lounging. He looked up, shaken from his thoughts. Victoria smiled and looked at him. "I need some groceries, would you mind getting them? I would do it myself, but I've got that plumber coming by soon and I don't want to miss him. Please?"

"Sure," he muttered, getting to his feet. She handed him a list of produce and other items, as well as a cheque for §150, the most money Sunny had ever held at any one point. Victoria told him to take his time, she already had tonight's supper fixed, so he didn't need to rush home for the cooking.

"Alright," he said, heading outside. He walked down the street, glad that the grocery shop was only about twenty minutes away on foot. Plenty of people would have been willing to hand out a few simoleons for a taxi, but he enjoyed the fresh air and the exercise.

When he arrived at the Supermarket, he headed immediately for the milk. In front of him, he could see a man wearing a purple top hat. His brown hair was long, reaching down his back in what Victoria would have called an 'unfashionable Thor's cut'. He sort of reminded Sunny of Gunther, back when they were teenagers. Gunther's hair hadn't been quite so long-only to his shoulders-but it was the same sort of brown.

Deciding it was a matter of luck and slight similarities, Sunny ignored him, opening a freezer door to grab a gallon of milk. He struggled with it, surprised that the gallon could be so heavy. He muttered a curse under his breath, setting the milk in his cart.

"Sunny? Sunny _Andrews_?" said a voice to his right. Sunny looked up to see the man-who really _did _look a lot like Gunther-smiling at him. "Sunny, is that you?"

"Yeah..." he said, looking at him curiously. _Was _it possible that Gunther had managed to arrive in Sunset Valley, almost like a thing of fate? "Gunther?"

"Aha!" Gunther-for that was who it was-cried, hugging him tightly. "I've missed _you_, little buddy! How are you? Life treating you good? You got a..." he looked left and right, as if searching for spies, before leaning in and whispering, "a _girlfriend_?"

"No."

"Wife? Fiancee?" Sunny shook his head. Gunther looked at him for a second in shock, then nodded. "That's fine, living like a bachelor. That's cool. Wish I could say the same, but I've actually got a girl waiting for me back home. Her name is Jocasta. Jocasta Adeeheim. She's not the prettiest, but she's mine and I love her. We're going to get married, you know."

"You're thirty, Gunther."

"And getting older every minute. Say, would you like to come over for dinner tonight? Catch up on the last twenty something years? I'd like to know how you ended up in sleepy little Sunset Valley. I'm sure it's an _interesting _story."

"Not really, I only just ran away from home when I was nineteen." Sunny smirked, knowing he had caught Gunther's attention with that statement. Gunther never could really resist a good story, and this certainly was one of the best.

"You _must _come over, then. You can meet Jocasta. In fact, we'll make a party out of it. The Crumplebottoms are coming over for dinner anyway, and so is Simis Bachelor. He's a newspaper boy, but he's an old friend of Jo's, so we've invited him over. You will come, right?"

"Sure." Sunny said, wondering how he would tell Victoria. She'd probably be excited to get rid of him for a night. But the _Crumplebottoms_? The last time Sunny had encountered a Crumplebottom, he had ended up in the back of a police cruiser. "Which Crumplebottoms are we talking about, though?"

"Oh, the girls, of course! I would never invite that old lady. She's a bossy old prude that hates love. No, I've invited Cornelia and her sister and Agnes. They're sweet, though I wouldn't recommend trying anything on Agnes. She's still only a young girl and Cornelia is very protective of her. Say, maybe you and Cornelia should date! She's a...a you-know-what, like us. You'd _like _her."

"Okay, I'll try. Though, it's a wonder I didn't connect the reopening of the Goth Manor here in town with your arrival," said Sunny, laughing.

….

(_Later that night, The Goth Manor, Sunset Valley_)

"Hello, Sunny Andrews, it's nice to meet you. Gunther mentions you all the time. _All _the time," she said, smiling. Gunther was right-Jocasta wasn't exactly a beauty queen, but she was pretty, in a small town sort of way. She had lived in Sunset Valley her entire life and had been dating Gunther for three years. Jocasta was slightly overweight, but her happy face and her long dark hair, which was tied up in a braid, made her look so pleasing. Sunny could see while Gunther had fallen for her.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Jocasta. I'm glad to be here."

"Thank you," she said, smiling sweetly. "We're in the dining room tonight-the kitchen can't fit more than three people right now. Right this way, if you don't mind." She lead him into an open room, which was lit by old fashioned lamps. Around the table was Gunther-who smiled and nodded at Sunny-at the head of the table, serving wine. Next to him was a girl with short purple hair. She was very pale, and her clothes were dark. Sitting beside her was a young girl with long blonde hair. She seemed to be very happy, and kept making jokes as Sunny came into the room. Across from her was a tanned man with reddish-brown hair. He seemed very serious and moody, but would occasionally crack a quick smile at the blonde girl.

"Sunny! Nice to see you!" said Gunther, getting to his feet. "Welcome, welcome. I'm glad you made it. Everyone, this is my old friend, Sunny Andrews. Sunny, this is Cornelia," the purple haired woman. "her sister Agnes," the young, happy blonde. "and Simis Bachelor." the serious young man. "Please, take a seat next to Simis."

Sunny sat down, feeling awkward. He could feel three set of eyes on him as he settled in his hard-backed chair. Gunther poured him a glass of wine, and then hurried back to his seat. Sunny watched in amazement as everyone, even Agnes, took a sip. She was only seventeen, but was drinking like an adult! Jocasta came back in, serving up a very big turkey, with mash potatoes and gravy. Sunny turned down the pudding, instead focusing his attention on a delicious looking thing of apple pie. Sunny had always had a bit of a weak spot for pie, especially apple.

"Gunther says you are very interested in the darker side of life," said Cornelia in a solemn voice. She spoke just barely above a whisper and her eyes were wide as she looked at Sunny. He couldn't help but feel as if she were staring directly into his soul and he shivered, confused. "I am, also, interested in what the after world has to offer."

"You can see them, then?" Sunny asked, leaning in. "The ghosts in the graveyard? The dead? Can you speak to them, as I can?"

She nodded, her face blank. He shivered again, but this time, something seemed to click inside of him. Cornelia _was _like him, he could tell. She didn't really like people and she felt alone, just like him. He offered her a smile, which she returned, a slight upturn of the lip.

"What's with all this talk of death?" said Agnes, laughing brightly. "Don't be such a bore, Nelia! We came here to enjoy ourselves with Mr. Goth, don't ruin it with your talk of ghosts. And you," she turned to look at Sunny. "Don't encourage such ideas. Everyone knows that ghosts are just children's tales."

"Yeah," said Simis, smirking. Sunny didn't much care for him. He seemed someone pompous, someone pretentious, like he felt better than Sunny, because the Bachelors were a pretty well known family in town. "Everyone knows ghosts are just for the weak minded and gullible. Wouldn't you say so, Jocasta?"

Jocasta looked up nervously, giggling. She hiccuped, blushed, then took another sip of wine. "Ghosts? I've never seen ghosts, but that doesn't mean they're real. Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. I don't particularly care, as long as they don't mess with _me_." Gunther frowned at her, shaking his head. Sunny recalled how fascinated Gunther was by the dead and the afterlife. Surely he would not marry a girl who did not have that same passion?

"Well, I think they are real."

"How about we change the subject," said Jocasta, looking around at them all. "How about you, Simis? How is your job?"

"Good, actually. I am a paper boy now, but I feel that, with time, my true talent will be recognised and I shall be promoted speedily." he said. "I hear that Gunther, here, is interested in business. Is that true, Gunther?"

Gunther shrugged nonchalantly. "It is what my father and my grandfather did. I might as well. There is nothing else in this world that interests me, particularly. I mostly drift in this world. It seems like it is only Jo who holds me grounded anymore." He smiled sweetly at Jocasta, who smiled back. But, was it Sunny's imagination, or did her smile seem a little strained, a little forced?

….

(_On the back porch of Goth Manor_)

"We could always just admit the truth, you know. Just tell Gunther how you really feel. I mean, what if he decides he wants to marry you? Are you really going to let yourself be unhappy just because it makes _him _happy? I know you are selfless, Jo, but this is taking it too far." he grumbled.

"Shh," she said reassuringly. "Don't speak so loud, someone might hear us, Simis. I've told you, I'll tell Gunther about us when the time is right."

"And when will that be?" he asked gruffly. "When you are pregnant with his child? When he is on his deathbed? When?"

"Soon, soon. I promise you, Simis. I _love _you. I've _always _loved you. Gunther...he's right, sometimes he is so flighty and he needs someone there, someone to take care of him. He is practically my brother, but you, Simis, are my lover."

"Then prove it. Break up with him, tonight."

"Simis! I-"

"Jocasta, if you love me, you will do it. Show me how much you love me. Tell Gunther the truth. He will survive, he will get over it. But if I do not get to spend the rest of my life with you, my heart shall break. I shall die if I do not get to make you my bride. Please, Jocasta, do the right thing."

"Very well, Simis. I will tell him when everyone has left. I shall break up with him and then we can be together, as it is meant to be."

"Good. Good." He leaned in, kissing her deeply on the lips. She moaned, reaching up behind his neck, pulling him deeper. Behind them, bushes rustled, and the two broke apart, startled. She blushed, straightening her shirt.

"I ought to get inside now. They might get suspicious."

"Yes." The two walked inside, chatting amiably, like old friends, not like lovers. Not like two people who were secretly dating. Not like two people in such desperate love, but like friends. It hurt to pretend, but they had to.

In the bushes, Cornelia scowled to herself. Jocasta had Gunther Goth-Gunther! The man that Cornelia lusted for and had been lusting after for years-and he was turning him down for Simis Bachelor. Some girls had all the luck and charm. But, perhaps, if Jocasta and Gunther broke up, she would finally have a chance with him.

Though, the way that Andrews man had looked at her...the way he understood her...No matter, if Jocasta didn't break up with Gunther that very night, she would reveal the truth to him. That was the beauty of tape recorders-she had caught every word on tape and if necessary, she would tell Gunther what had happened and how she felt for him.

Because Gunther deserved someone nice, someone like him. Someone named _Cornelia Crumplebottom. _

….

_**If you enjoyed this story, there's always the option of reviewing? Reviewing is one less crash that I am involved in. Heh. **_

_**Aaaaaah, so tired. Spent hours just writing this, then went to study for Human Geography, then studied for Geometry, took a test in Biology/Geometry/English/Spanish, plus Driver's Ed, then I practiced my trumpet piece, baby-sat a couple of seven year olds, and then came back to finish this story. All in three days. Oh gosh...I hope Sophomore year isn't like this. I will die. **_

_**Next time, Opal, chapter 6! Will Arthur survive? Is he already dead? Will the twins grow up with problems? Can I stop asking questions now, it hurts my head. **_


	12. Opal: Dark Times

_**Hello again. I, um, sort of forgot that this was meant to be Opal's next chapter, so I started something about Sunny...whoops. That's what I get for being an overachiever and posting the next chapter so soon. **_

_**Aha, also realised that this story has been up for over a month and that is always a reason to celebrate, so I just want to thank everyone who has reviewed/read/followed/or favorited this story. You guys are awesome, even if it has only been a month and I think...I think we're only half way done. **_

_**To the guest reviewer: Thank you! Thanks a lot! Your reviews really made my day when I managed to find them (mental curse towards my email folders.) & I hope you continue enjoying the story. **_

_**Anyway, here is Opal, Chapter 6! Be Pleased With It.**_

….

_(Late August, 2001, Sunset Valley, 442 Sky Blvd_)

What do you say to someone who feels as if they have lost absolutely everything? How do you comfort them? Is there anything you could possibly say to a grieving mother? To a grieving twin, and siblings? Arthur Strenner was the second son born to Magnolia and Alfred Strenner. Their youngest child, their sweet, darling Arthur. His life, his entire future, ruined all in a matter of seconds. Just because a young man happened to loose control, driving through a puddle.

Arthur Strenner, at eighteen, was very lovely, a very decent Sim. He had the same tanned skin as the rest of his family, but had his father's eyes and his grandfather's hair. Arthur was close to his twin, Amora, and even went so far as to be her prom date when Amora's boyfriend broke up with her a month beforehand. He was into sports, mainly football and lacrosse. He was meant to start attending university that fall, majoring in journalism.

Arthur Strenner was still alive, but he might as well have been dead. The nurses and doctors failed to get any stimulation from the boy, despite their best efforts. A coma, and a deep one at that. Words like 'brain dead', 'vegetable', and 'premature death' were thrown around between parents and medical officials. Alfred was offered the option of pulling the plug that connected his son to a pale shadow of life. It was refused time and time again over a month and a half. The Strenners would not give up, would not ever stop fighting for their son, in the chance that he was strong enough to wake himself up. The Strenners often liked to dream impossible things.

Alice very strongly believed that her brother was going to make it; that he _had _to make it. Her life had become a mess of stressing over the bills and worrying over the girls. Already three years old and she found them nearly impossible to manage. It was hard to win an argument when everything was always two to one. They wanted ice cream, or to go to the park. Was this what it had been like for Mum, this constant struggle to please the children, yet remain firmly in control? How had she done it with seven kids?

Harvey was at work, far away from all the screaming and fighting at home. Alice had been allowed to take a few months off from work, since the conductor was always worried about the mental and physical health of his players. Alice didn't really think being stuck home with two toddlers was going to help, but if it meant she was still getting paid, then fine. She could stay at home for a while. Besides, as the only lyricist for her group, it just meant everyone else got a little break as well.

For the past week, Alice had been carefully avoiding the subject of children with Harvey. They had been discussing since the girls were just a few months old. Harvey-the eldest of two (if you didn't count Nerys in Wales)-had always wanted plenty of children. Alice, a little more aware of what many children did to a person, was rather hesitant, but willing to have three or four kids, if it made Harvey happy.

They had been trying for ages now, over and over. Alice had gone to see doctors and fertility clinics and even, on a whim, a gypsy who lived on the edge of town. She ate healthy, checked her calendar often. And, yet, nothing. Not even the slightest _hint _of morning sickness. Last week, Alice had gone to see a doctor in Bridgeport, hoping that her darkest fears would be washed away. But the doctor, who had spent hours and hours on her only shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Suarley. I truly am." he had told her, helping her from the cold bed. She was wearing a thin frock that left her entire backside open, and Alice could feel an awkward breeze. She watched the doctor wander over to an image of what appeared to be a uterus, then turned to look at her. He was obviously upset as he shook his head again.

"I am so, so sorry. I always hate saying this to my patients..." he paused, looking away from her again, shutting his eyes tightly. Alice gasped, already guessing at what he was going to say. No. _No. _She was twenty-six years old, dammit! This couldn't be happening to her, not already!

"You're body pushed itself to the limit with the girls, Mrs. Suarley. Trying to have another child _naturally _would only put you and any future child at risk of serious physical problems, or even death. I'm sorry, I truly am, but there is just no way you will be able to carry a child to full term ever again." He looked genuinely sorry as he wrung his hands, nervously watching her. Other patients before Alice had screamed and raged in this office, thrown things, broken things.

Alice shook her head, trying-and failing-to wrap her head around what he was saying. She was _twenty-six _years old, and she could never have another child. Harvey's dream for a little boy...her hope for another girl...all gone, just because of this...this _problem_. She was defective. Isn't that what they called things that didn't work properly? _Defective. _She couldn't give Harvey the children he deserved, couldn't give her mum any more grandchildren.

She had driven all the way back to Sunset Valley on the verge of tears, not wanting to face Harvey or anyone else. Not the girls, for sure. Only two reminders that she would never be whole again. Her brother, in a coma, in the hospital. She had wanted to be able to wake him up to great news, that he would be an uncle again. He had been so excited by the news of Amethyst and Opal. And now, she would never be able to do that, to light up his face.

She blinked rapidly, her eyes swimming. Alice shook her head, trying to erase the pain of the past. Focus on the two children she _did _have. Amethyst and Opal, her beautiful little girls. Harvey...Harvey loved the girls almost more than she did. He would live, he would be fine with the two children he had. But, how would she be able to tell him the truth, that these would be the last?

Her phone buzzed and she glanced down at it. Three texts.

_From HannahBear! 10:17 A.M._

_Ali, yo girl. Havnt talked in 4eva! Need 2 c u, bad. Gonna b in town this wknd for the End of Summer Fest. Can we meet? It's IMPORTANT._

_-XOXO, _

_HannahBear!_

.

_From HannahBear! 10:20 A.M._

_Ali, REALLY need 2 tlk 2 u. SUPER important. I need 2 tell u sumthing really soon. Plse txt me soon. _

_-XOXO,_

_HannahBear!_

.

_From HannahBear! 10:24 A.M._

_Ali, listen, it's 'bout ur bro. Arthur. I kno sumthing 'bout him & it is going to change things. Plse txt me back ASAP. _

_-HannahBear! _

Alice sighed to herself, snapping her phone shut. Hannah had been texting her for hours, trying to talk to her about Arthur. Hannah was actually only twenty-one years old, and often, when they were younger and she was underage, would flash her father's business card as a way to get into parties. But, Hannah didn't know how to be serious, and that was the problem. She probably just wanted to talk about how bad it was that Arthur was in the hospital.

Alice set her phone in her book bag, determined not to look at it until that night. She got to her feet, walking over to where the girls were playing with the doll house, cooing softly at them. The three sprawled out on the floor, acting out 'family' scenes and being happy, if for only a little while. Behind her, Alice could hear her phone buzz again, but she didn't move towards it. Hannah needed to learn to solve her own problems.

_From HannahBear! 10:25 A.M._

_Ali, Ive bin dating ur bro 4 a time now. _

_I think I mite b preg. It's Arthur's, trust me. I wuldn't cheat on him. Plse txt me back. _

_-HannahBear! _

….

(_September, 2001_)

_Lights...lights...He could see lights...all around him, flickering...flickering. He wanted to tell them to make the lights go away, but his mouth was dry. Dry...why wouldn't his tongue work? Did he still have a tongue?_

_What...what happened? Lights...Watcher, the lights bothered him so much. Voices...vague, some high-pitched and others low...voices, talking, talking. Chatting all around him. Talking _to _him. At him. He couldn't see the speakers...his eyes were partly opened...Eyes. Eyes. It hurt to see the lights. Where were the lights coming from?_

"_Can you hear me, son? Can you hear me? Blink your eyes if you can hear me, son. Hello? Can you hear me? Any sort of sign?"_

_He blinked...once, twice. It hurt and he wanted to scream with pain. Why were they making him do such painful things? Why were they torturing him with noise and lights and movement. Lights..._

_There had been lights coming at him, bright flashing lights. A high-pitched squeal and then screaming. Horrible, awful screaming, like an animal. Dying. Something or someone was dying. Him...was he dying? Everything hurt so, so much. _

"_Do you know who you are, son? Do you know where you are? Son?" He was angry now. This voice, this person talking to him was not his father...it did not sound like Dad. Why did he call him son, then? _

"_I asked you a question." a sigh. "Okay, if you know your name, blink once." _

_Name. Name, name, name. What was his name? Did he have a name? Ar...Ar...Ar...something. Ar something. Did it really matter? Why did this guy need to know his name? Why was he here? Where was _here_, anyway? Heaven? Hell? _

_A voice. A voice in his ear. Not the same one from before. "Save her." He flinched, trying to escape from the voice. It left images of cold fingers and wetness all around him. "Save her." He tried to respond, tried to say no. Mouth not working. Oh, Watcher! What was going on with him?_

"_SAVE HER!" _

"_Save her how? Who is she?" Shrieking in his own head. Was he crazy? Hearing voices already? Maybe he _was _dead and his mission was to save some poor little girl still alive down on Earth. But, who had been the first person, the one who called him son. Who was that? _

"_You've got to save her. Save her. Just a few more years...you can save her. Please, make things right. Change history." _

"_I don't understand what you mean. Save _who_?" he yelled back at the voice in his head. "Save WHO? I don't know what you want."_

"_Opal...Opal...she's coming...Opal..."_

….

(_September, 2001, Sunset Valley, 442 Sky Blvd_)

"He's awake?" she repeated, hardly able to believe it. After two and a half months, was it possible? Arthur was finally awake, finally okay?

"Yes, that's what the nurse says. She says he's reacting to stuff and noises and lights." Harvey said over the line, sounding just as excited and happy as she did. She knew Harvey saw Arthur as the little brother he had never had, someone to play sports with and talk about cars with. Arthur, Harvey, and Alfred, every weekend watching cricket games either on the telly or, when they could score tickets, at the stadium.

"Reacting?" she scrunched her nose up, trying to think. Harvey was the medical expert, not her. She could barely figure out band-aids, let alone all these elaborate medical terms and instructions that Harvey seemed to have memorized.

"Blinking, twitching, moving. Making sort of moaning noises. He's awake, definitely. Responding in simple terms, sure, but he's still responding. Absolutely awake. I just looked him in the eyes myself. He's not spoken any clear words yet, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. Full recovery, we're thinking. Healthy down to the last toe."

"_Awake-_awake? Like, permanently?" she couldn't help but cry, her voice filled with so much excitement. This was her best dream come true, her deepest wish being granted by some greater force. Perhaps praying to the Watcher _was _a good idea, like Mum had insisted they all do. Alice really didn't find all that much in some mysterious person in the sky, controlling her every move, but if they brought Arthur back healthy, she'd believe in unicorns and werewolves.

"I sure hope so."

"Oh, Harvey!"

"I know, Alice. They can get you in to see him and even maybe get to properly talk to him if you hurry over."

"Can I bring Ama?" Ama would want to see her twin as soon as possible. It had been hard on her, being separated from her brother. She had been in tears for days and refused to eat enough food.

"Yeah, definitely. She'll want to see her brother."

"Arty's awake! Oh my Watcher, he's really awake!"

"You'll need to hurry, Alice, he might go back to sleep at any moment. Not coma-sleep, just regular sleep, but you won't be able to see him if he's resting. He'll need to rest, he's still healing."

"He's awake."

She had to call Amora, she had to call Mum. Tell them that Arthur was okay. That everything was fine and perfect and things could go back to the way things were just a few months ago. The way they _should _have been. Harvey was on the other line still, talking about the dangers of him slipping back into a coma, or permanent paralysis, but all she could hear was "_He's awake_."

….

(_Sacred Spleen Memorial Hospital, Sunset Valley, September, 2001_)

"Your brother...he's responded to a nurse. Blinked, had his eyes open. About an hour again, nearly. He's been twitching and moaning-he's asleep, but not a _coma _sleep, see? But we think he's going to pull through. Just need to let the nightmares pass and we'll get Mr. Arthur back into the real world." the doctor told Alice and Amora. The two girls were hanging on her every word, desperately hoping for the best. Half afraid that this was all a dream.

"Are you sure?" Amora asked, her hands twitching nervously. Amora had always been prone to flinching at random times, or twitching. She had been diagnosed at the age of ten with Tourette's, but it was mostly just the hands and face, and really only noticeable when she was stressed.

"Yes, ma'am, we're very confident about Mr. Arthur. You're his...twin, yes? His twin sister?" Amora nodded, gulped, then flinched again. "Well, don't worry about him, he's a tough boy. He'll pull through, I know it. No need to worry." The doctor gave Amora a comforting smile, one hand on her shoulder. The doctor had no fear in her eyes, only hope.

"When will he get to leave?" Amora asked, looking up at the doctor, her eyes wide. She was eighteen, but looked fourteen, so small and thin. Amora was tall, but she just looked so little, like she took up no space at all. She had always been seen as the weakest of everyone in the family, the baby of the family, but it had been _Amora _who protected Arthur from bullies in grade school, who was tough and ready to fight. Now, watching her nearly breaking down...Alice could not see that same girl. This one was sad, broken. Worried, nearly to death, for her brother. Her twin, her _other half. _

(Was this what it would be like with Opal and Amethyst, if something happened to one of them? Would they carry this scared, lost look with them for the rest of their life? Alice hoped not.)

"Well," the doctor said, looking down at her clipboard, her hand falling from Amora's shoulder. "if everything goes well, it might only be another few weeks. Three months at the most. He'll have to come back for check-ups, certainly, but he'll be able to live at home, like normal."

"He'll be fine?"

"Perfectly normal, perfectly healthy. Like the crash never happened." the doctor said, smiling at the girls encouragingly. She had had many patients over the last twenty years, had seen plenty of death. It changed a person, watching so many people break over losing family. She was always so happy when the news was that the patient would survive. She loved giving people good news, giving them hope and promises of bright futures.

….

(_October, 2001_)

_Opal...who was Opal? The name, in his head. The image of a little girl..._two _little girls, identical. Wearing sweaters, one green with a big 'A', and the other with a pink sweater with a big 'O'. O...Opal? Opal...where did he know her from?Drowning. Someone is drowning_._ He heard screams, loud, horrible screams. Water, all around._ _Watcher, where did all the water come from? Who is screaming such awful screams? _

"_Please, please! Someone help me!" A fist, connecting with the pink 'O', and then blood. Screams again, water up to his waist. A small girl waves at him from a great distance away, and he waved back, smiling. She smiled briefly, then disappeared under the water and he saw more blood, dark red, flowing through the water from where she was. He panicked, splashing. Trying to get to her. _

"_Wait up! Don't go!" he yelled, diving under the water for her. Have to save her. Have to save her. Where was she? There were no bodies under the water, only a clown's mask, staring up at him from the pond floor. He started, jerking away. It stared up at him, a large, creepy smiling that made him shiver. Crap. Where was the girl?_

"_Please...please..." said a little voice in his head, and he spun in circles, searching for the girls. Where was she, where was she? He couldn't find her, could only see dark water everywhere and that damn mask, watching him. His lungs seemed to be constricted, and he tried to breath...no air...he was in water, he couldn't breathe. Oh Watcher, he couldn't breathe! The surface seemed so far above him and he couldn't find a good spot to kick off from. In fact, it was almost like he was caught in a current, stuck in the middle of dark, endless water. Dying and drowning. _

"_PLEASE! YOU HAVE TO HELP ME! He's coming, oh no, he's coming! Please, stop it. Stop it. I don't want to die...I don't want to die...please..." the little girl was begging and he could hear her voice everywhere, but he couldn't figure out where she was. What was happening to her. He screamed, but only bubbles came out, and he gasped for air again, feeling his lungs constricting. _

"_Please...please." He wanted to help her, but he couldn't make a sound. He couldn't see, it was now too dark. His hands, hidden from him. Oh, Watcher. Was this how it ended? Desperate for air, with a little girl begging for him to help. He couldn't see, couldn't move. Couldn't breath. All around him, voices-vaguely familiar alongside complete strangers-called to him to open his eyes, to please respond. _

_He tried to do as they said, tried to breathe, but it hurt too much. He let his body sink deeper into the water, let his mind sleep. _

_How badly he wanted to sleep. _

(_Late October, 2001, Sunset Valley Funeral Parlor_)

They held his funeral on the twenty-ninth of October, a chilly autumn afternoon, surrounded by his family. His mum and dad and all his siblings and their respective families. Cousins-he had plenty of those-and aunts and uncles. Grandparents, nieces, nephews. All turned out to see the funeral of a boy who had been much too young.

Opal didn't quite understand the concept of 'funeral'. She knew it meant everyone cried and dressed up in nice clothes and ate food. There was a box up front in the room, but Mummy wouldn't let her or Ama go look in it. There seemed to be a giant image of her uncle Art's head, but she couldn't find him anywhere in the room. Maybe he'd be by later?

Perhaps it was someone's birthday, since everyone was wearing so nice clothes and there was so much weird food. Opal had been to the birthday party of some boy from her daycare just a few days before, and felt very wise when it came to parties now. Surely this was a party? So, why was everyone crying? People didn't cry at parties, they laughed and played and smiled.

"He was so young," she heard someone murmur. "He shouldn't have died, not yet. Death...it is a cruel thing, isn't it? Maggie didn't deserve this."

"Shh!" someone hissed at the woman, nodding towards where Opal sat, watching them intently. "Little pitchers have big ears, Maria. Remember that." Opal frowned, confused. There were no pitchers here, and she had certainly never seen one with _any _ears, let alone big ones! Why did grown-ups have to speak in such confusing ways, saying what they did not mean?

And, most importantly, what was 'death'?

….

_**Were you expecting Arthur to be dead? So was I, and then I wasn't...And then...this story seems to be telling itself; its got its own heart and mind. Can you believe we've made it this far? That I haven't given up? I certainly am. **_

_**I apologise for the wait, but I've been busy with the Doctor. We've been on adventures to...uh...places...(In reality, I've just been sort of focused on other stories.) Weird how I can write some stories in a few hours, then get stuck at 400 words for a week on another. Annoying, also. **_

_**Next time, Sunny, chapter 7! **_


	13. Sunny: Private Eye Investigator

_**DID YOU MISS ME? BECAUSE I WAS HAVING LOTS OF FUN not WRITING THIS STORY. IN FACT, IT WAS SO MUCH FUN THAT I DECIDED TO JUST GIVE UP ALTOGETHER. (Just joking, I wouldn't be **_that **_mean to you guys.) _**

_**So...it's been awhile since I last posted, and I apologise for making you wait. I've...joined some other things online here which have kept me quite busy, as well as some personal, unforeseen matters which have drastically affected my life. Now, this is NOT me saying I'm giving up on this story, (I'm not) but rather, me explaining that updates will come a LOT less frequently than they have. I apologise once more. **_

_**Again, I do not own Eugene Hunter. (He is still the property of EA.) Also, I don't own Geoffrey Chekni, I just gave the poor man a last name. (He needed one.) **_

_**Now, Sunny, chapter 7. **_

….

(_Landgraab Manor, Sunset Valley, 1990_)

"I don't wish to speak about it," said the gruff and the somewhat intimidating Chester Landgraab, shooing the reporters away from his car as he pulled into the driveway. The obnoxious vultures had been camping out at the Landgraab Manor for almost a month now, with no other major story to cover. They were all very interested in the recent break-in at the Manor, where a young man had been caught, apparently trying to fiddle with the wiring. "This break-in was nasty business, but those cops have the silly child in custody, and there is _no need _for you vultures to be hanging around my house. Come on, budge off, and I _mean _that. Leave. Now I'm telling you, you lot better clear out before I release my mastiffs on you. They don't much like strangers." Rather quickly, as he had planned, the reporters and camera men ran back to their cars, driving away as fast as they could. Chester scowled as he walked into the large manor, noticing someone in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Nancy. Nice to see you, for once," he said sharply, glancing around for Annette, the maid. She was usually here by now.

"You don't have to be so mean to them, Daddy. After all, they're only doing their job, aren't they? Selling news? And what's more interesting than the fact that one of the richest houses in town was broken into? Personally, even _I'd _want that scoop," said Chester's twenty year old daughter, Nancy. Her pale blonde hair had been tied up into an elaborate bun and she was putting make-up on while sipping at her coffee. "By the way, I've got a class meeting in an hour-if you can even really call it a meeting. It's mostly all of a bunch of nonsense started by that Alto man. Nick or Nathan, or something. He keeps saying us younger students don't know what we're talking about," The entire time she talked, Nancy didn't once look up at her father, instead carefully avoiding eye contact by staring into her mirror. Things had been...icy between the two of them for a while now.

"Well, I don't really care about what Mr. Alto thinks about you lot. As far as I'm concerned, you've all gone corrupt, the whole business department. I'm half-ashamed to admit I even used to _attend _Smugworth's. It's embarrassing, the stuff I hear about."

"What? The toga racing? That's just immature fraternity stuff."

"I'm talking about this stuff with the _rocks_, Nancy. Those damn rocks-why is everyone so obsessed with them all of a sudden? I mean, the idea of those stupid pebbles being worth something was an idea when _I _was younger, but your buddies up at the Academy are taking things a little too far. I've heard rumours that people have _died _over this stuff."

"C'mon, Dad," Nancy said, giving his a critical glance. "That's stupid. Besides, shouldn't you be more concerned about that burglar from last night? That dumb kid that broke into the garage? I mean, he didn't even get a chance to take anything-what was the point? That's what everyone's been talking about. Even _Geoffrey_, and you know how he is about gossip." Geoffrey Chekni was the son of Nancy's therapist, and the two had been dating for a few weeks now.

Chester didn't, to be honest, really give a damn about stupid kids breaking into his house. It was to be expected, with a house as well guarded and magnificent as his, that there would be a handful of rebellious teenagers showing off to their friends every few years that would try to break in.

Chester had never been a heavy drinker before his wife's death. Sure, he had a thing of scotch every now and then, but never anything serious. However, it seemed that in the nine years since losing Queenie, he had turned more and more to the bottle. His daughter, Nancy, had originally tried to keep the liquor out of the house, tossing away bottles and evening offering to drive him to AA meetings, but he just didn't see a reason to _stop. _His wife was dead, his daughter was cold and distant. His young, beautiful wife.._gone. _In just a few short hours, his entire life had collapsed and he was left alone with just an eleven year old daughter that he barely knew.

Chester had been a _business man_, he knew _business. _Oh, yes, he could spout statistics and numbers and prices at a Sim like crazy, but he wasn't sure how to console his own daughter. He didn't know how to console _himself_, because he had never really been a people-person. Sucking up to people, knowing how to play their strengths and weaknesses-he couldn't do _that. _And, because of that, he had no idea how to tell his only daughter "I'm sorry about Mummy. Please, let's talk through it.". Instead, he threw himself into his work. Hours of research and managing up at Doo Peas during the day, and several bottles of the happy juice during the night. He was truly pathetic.

"_There are people who could help you, Daddy. People who could talk through this with you. That counselour... Mr. Chekni, he's really very nice and he's willing to help you. Please, if you'd just give him a chance, maybe you wouldn't be so depressed." _

"_You think I'm depressed? That I need help? Like I'm something you have to take _pity _on? Oh, poor old Mr. Landgraab, he lost his wife and now he's cracked. Don't you think I get enough of this crap at the office without a stupid little girl like you telling me that I need _help_? You are my daughter, and you do _not _have the right to give me advice, young lady."_

"_Daddy, I was only trying to help-"_

"_What did I say? You just better shut up, because you don't know _anything_! Wrapped up in your fancy little private school life. You don't know _anything _about the real world, you're too foolish to see the ugly side of the world."  
"Daddy, please-"_

"_Leave me alone, Nancy. I don't want to talk to you right now."_

"_Daddy! Please, listen to me! I care for you, I want to _help _you!" She was crying now, full out crying. She didn't look pretty at all, with her face all blotchy and her nose running. He wanted to smack her across the face, wanted her to see reason. _

"_The world isn't all gumdrops and rainbows, Nancy. Some people just can't be helped, and I am one of them. Now, go do something important. Finish your homework or go to the mall with your friends. Be normal and leave me alone."_

_Her expression was crestfallen, her eyes dim. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she moved towards her father. Cold, long fingers brushed the side of his face, briefly resting on the lobe of his ear before running over the scar over his eyebrow. He moved his own hand to catch hers', shoving her away. The girl fell to the floor, landing on her bum. _

"_Daddy..."_

"_Fuck off, Queenie. I don't want to talk to you, anymore."_

"_Daddy?"_

"_I said _leave me alone_, Queenie! Don't you understand? Aren't you listening? _Go away!_" She shook her head, still on the floor. Nancy's eyes were wide, and she seemed to be gasping for air. Suddenly, she looked up, directly at him. Her eyes were cold and full of hatred. _

"_I'm not Queenie. I'm not Mom. You're doing it again-mixing us up, hoping that I'll be _just _like Mom. Well, guess what, _Daddy? _I'm not Mom. I'm Nancy." _

She had left for college a month later, and hadn't returned home yet. Twenty years old, and yet she already harbored such hatred for her own father. He didn't blame her; in his sober moments, he hated himself. Chester could understand why she had left the manor with such _anger _in her eyes, without even so much as a good-bye, but that didn't make it hurt any less. He had pushed his own daughter-his only daughter, away. Would he ever get her back?  
Probably not.

But that burglar, caught in his yard-the burglar who took nothing, only caught on camera in the garage, inspecting every inch of wiring, every little detail. Well, Chester thought to himself, eventually there was going to be a loony in Sunset Valley. It happened to even the best of places. Crazy people who broke into houses to do 'investigative work', as the man had called it.

"Nutters, this whole world," he grumbled to himself, taking another swig from his bottle. "This entire planet is full of nutters. This place was bound to get one sooner or later. And, really," he belched, quite unlike the gentleman he had been playing earlier that day in the office, wearing his suit and tie. "_really_, I should have known the loons would be attracted to a poor, unfortunate man like me. After all, _I'm _crazy myself, aren't I?"

He probably was, in all honesty. He probably was.

….

(_Sunset Valley Police Station, 1990_)

Sunny Andrews, twenty-nine, was sitting in a hard wooden chair across from one, Mr. Officer Eugene Hunter. The two men had met and spoken only once before, five years earlier, yet greeted each other like old friends. The other police men had tittered and made rude comments about the casual manner between 'criminal' and officer, but Eugene didn't care. What he was _truly _concerned about was keeping this seemingly nice young man out of jail, especially in the future.

"And so, we meet again, don't we, Mr. Andrews. I would say it's nice to see you, but it really _isn't _all that nice to see you. In fact, it's quite the opposite." Officer Eugene Hunter gave the man across the table a grim smile, taking in his calm expression. "It's been...what? Five years? Been keeping it quiet, laying low, have you? What happened-couldn't resist Mr. Landgraab's garage? Maybe he's stolen something valuable of yours' and you want it back? Oh, oh-I _know_! The voices in your head told you to sneak in there."

"How funny you are, Officer. Really, you ought to have been a comedian." Andrews deadpanned, smirking at the officer. "No, no voices. But I _am _investigating. After all, that's what I do now, I investigate. At least, I _try _to. No one seems to take us detectives seriously next to you cops with your fancy uniforms and your guns. _I _can't even carry pepper spray without being picked up for carrying a concealed weapon."

"Well, that's not exactly my fault, Mr. Andrews, nor is it my problem. What _is _my problem is the act you were picked up quote 'digging around in the garage of one, Mr. Chester Landgraab, without his knowledge or his permission', end quote. And what _I _now have to do is figure out why, and whether or not you're going to be charged over this."

"Charged?" Sunny wrinkled his nose, giving Eugene his most confused look. But the older man wasn't buying his 'idiot act', like he had five years ago. He knew Andrews better now than before, knew he liked to _play _dumb and psychotic, but he was clearly just a slightly mentally unbalanced, yet highly intelligent, young man.

"You can't fool me anymore, Andrews, I've got a whole _file _on you. I know how you work."

"Oh?" Andrews raised one eyebrow in a pretentious manner, still smirking. Eugene only smirked back, more than willing to show the man _exactly _how much he knew. "How about you show me then, Officer? I'd really like to know how good of a cop you are. I mean, I _suppose _you're pretty good at finding things out, but I'd like to know exactly _how _much the police have on me. You know, just in case."

Eugene cleared his throat, and pulled out a binder from his "You are the third son of Peter Andrews and Diana Blanket. You were born in 1961 in Moonlight Falls, and you have two older brothers, Jakeb and Beau. Jakeb lives in France-Champes Le Sims, actually- with his wife and his three children, and Mr. Beau lives here in town with his wife, Victoria. You lived in their house for seven years before letting your own flat, and you write at least once a week to your younger sister, Miracle." He looked up at Andrews, who was scratching his head and looking pretty shocked. "Need I go on, sir?"

"Nah, that's plenty good to convince me. But, I have to ask, Eugene. Who else knows about all of this? I mean, is this public knowledge or what?"

"Only _I _currently have access to this information, Mr. Andrews. But, and I want you to listen closely when I say this, should you be _charged with anything_, this information _will _become public information. And I can tell, you aren't one for having your entire private life open to the public, for the world to judge. Am I right?"

"Of course," The two of them smiled at each other, and then Sunny shook his head and shrugged. "I must say, you _are _a very good officer, sir."

"Thank you, but now is not the time to distract me. We are here to discuss your little case of _breaking and entering_ last night. Would you care to explain the situation to me, Mr. Andrews?"

….

(_Last Night, Pleasant Rest Graveyard, Sunset Valley_)

"You died in your car, didn't you, Queenie?" Sunny asked the fiery orange ghost. He had been coming to the graveyard almost every night for the past month, constantly asking the same questions over and over to the ghosts, hoping that _maybe _they could remember a little bit more this time. Sunny had decided to become an investigator a few years ago as a method to be able to sneak around town and find out as much as possible about the murders. So far, there wasn't much tangible evidence. Certainly not enough to convict anyone.

_My car? _She looked up at him, the swirling light that was her face morphing into something akin to startled. _Y-yes. But...I thought we were over that, that now things have quieted down...why are you doing this, Sunny?_ She sighed, floating a few feet off the ground, and looked him square in the eye. _Why are you so interested in 'avenging' our deaths? _

"Because there is a _killer _loose in Sunset Valley and I don't want anyone else to die because of some stupid lunatic." Sunny said. Queenie shook her head, clearly in disbelief. "What? It's the _truth_, Queenie. Why else would I want to get involved? I'm not exactly getting rich and _famous _off talking to ghosts and solving murders, now am I?"

_People don't just 'help' others out, Sunny, _Queenie said rather bitterly. Her hands were balled into fists and she wouldn't stop shaking her head. _I should know-the only reason I even _met _my husband is because I helped myself. I married him because I saw the greater benefit in it-not because I loved him. I know people, and I know they don't just help others because they're a nice guy. Nice guys don't _exist_. Besides, Sunny, you're on the same path as I once was. Curious about the world, but slowly beginning to realise the ugly truth; people are nasty and you'll never amount to much more than you are right now. _

"That's not true, Queenie. What on earth could have happened to make you think that way? There _are _nice guys, if you just look for them. They exist, but usually nice guys aren't wanted. I honestly believe that people will help other people because they are _humanely _decent and morally just. _I _don't need a reason to help you-I just _want _to."

_It's because of Annabelle, isn't it? _Queenie asked, a small smile curling her lips. She seemed annoyed, yet as if she had expected this to pass. _Of course it's Annabelle. It's always about a girl with you lot. What, do you think that if you avenge her death, she'll fall in love with you or something? News flash, Sunny, _Annabelle is dead_. She can't fall in love with you or marry you. You might as well just give up now. Go run back to your 'living' mortal friends and leave us ghosts alone. _

"Queenie, what's happened to you? When I met you five years ago, you were sweet and innocent and kind. Why have you turned so cold all of the sudden?"

_I'm dead, Sunny! Get it through your thick skull-I am dead. I have nothing to do for the rest of eternity except haunt the living and hope that _one day _I will be able to pass on into the Great Unknown. But you-you're alive and young. You have a future, a life full of potential and possibilities, yet you're throwing it all away just to impress a ghost. _

"Well," Sunny practically snarled, looking towards the gate of the graveyard. "I've always thought you were a pretty decent person, but I guess death just makes some of us irrationally bitter. If you need, I'm going to be investigating, whether you like it or not. And I'm _going _to the Landgraab Manor. You were among the first deaths and one of the most high-profile. There _has _to be some evidence left behind. And I'm _not _doing this to impress Annie," he snapped at her, seeing she was about to make some sort of remark.

_I wasn't going to say that, Sunny. _

"Listen I have to go now, Queenie. Tell the others I'll be back soon to tell you what I've found-_if _I've even found anything at all. And, Queenie, try to not be so bitter about absolutely everything. It's no fun-I liked the happy, innocent Queenie better."

_Bye, Sunny. _Annabelle called over at them, waving and smiling at him. Queenie gave him an 'I _told _you so' sort of look, which he ignored. _Of course _he understood the rules about how the dead couldn't return from the living. He understood that there was never any chance Annabelle would like him. (She was probably still waiting for her boyfriend from back when she was alive.) But, still...there was a _chance, _wasn't there? Even a small one?

"Bye." He sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He wandered out of the graveyard, making sure to lightly touch the 'Pleasant Rest Graveyard' sign, as always. (He wasn't sure why he did it. It had just sort of become a habit.) It was rather chilly, even for November, and he was glad he was wearing a jacket.

He thought to himself as he walked aimlessly. What did Queenie know? She was just a bitter ghost who didn't like the idea of anyone having fun, now that she wasn't able to. Besides, all Sunny wanted to do was _help_. So, he would investigate, and he _would _be helpful-and now Sunny found that he was not walking as aimlessly as he had originally thought. His feet were leading him to the Landgraab Manor. He ground his teeth together, determined.

Sunny wandered through the town, taking short-cuts. Though Sunset Valley was small, it still took him nearly forty minutes to get to the front gate of the manor. He sat in one of the front bushes, wondering how to get inside. Perhaps he ought to come back tomorrow and speak with Mr. Landgraab about the entire situation, see what he knew. Either way, the manor was rather intimidating. He felt so small looking up at it, noticing the exquisite detail-even in the shrubbery. It was large and looming, making Sunny feel insignificant. He was reminded of his own little flat back in the center of town; it would have been smaller than any room in this house-smaller than the garage!

_The garage. _Queenie had died in her car, which had caught on fire. And, according to reports, Mr. Landgraab still kept the car in one of his garages, as a memorial. Perhaps Sunny would be able to find some sort of clue that the police had over-looked! Maybe he would finally find something useful! _See? _He thought to himself, grinning. _I can do things. I can be productive. _

He watched as Nancy Landgraab and her boyfriend, Geoffrey Chekni, strolled by, and he froze, staying still in his spot in the bushes. He had to hurry and get inside, while the gate was open. He was finally going to be able to move forward in this whole situation. He would finally be able to find more clues.

_If only Annabelle could see me, now. _

….

_**This story shall be continued in Sunny, chapter 8. Don't worry, that chapter should be up by April. I've been busy, but hopefully updates might come a little more frequently? I certainly hope so. **_

_**Anyway, next time, Opal, chapter 7! (Fourteen chapters in all, whoop! And we've probably got another six or so chapters left, so lets begin the countdown now, shall we?)**_

_**If you want the full story about the Landgraabs, I AM working on a story about Nancy as a young girl. It won't be out for a while (I put it pretty low on the priority chart & I want to get a few chapters in before I post it) but you can just sit on your nests and wait in anticipation. **_


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